


Unnatural

by krysnel_nicavis



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: Angst, Drama, Family, M/M, Mpreg, Pregnant Greg Sanders, Romance, Slave Trade, Slavery, Unplanned Pregnancy, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-18
Updated: 2007-12-18
Packaged: 2017-10-22 00:44:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 29,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/231778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krysnel_nicavis/pseuds/krysnel_nicavis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where Naturals are human and Carriers are property, one Carrier in hiding is left to deal with the consequences of a decision made for him shortly after his birth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Enslavement

**Author's Note:**

> The prologue sets up the world this story is set in.

In the early 1940’s it was recorded that out of every 2 live births, 1 was female.  By the following decade that number had decreased to 1 in 4.  Thinking this was due to sex-selective abortion, governments put to practice various anti-abortion laws in attempt to increase the number of female live births.  The results were ineffective.  An intensive study of gender in still-born infants revealed that for every 10 infants born dead, 9 were female.  Medicine was made more readily available to pregnant women and these women were placed on increasing amounts of bed rest.  The study was repeated in the late 1950’s, its findings the same as before.

In the same time, unofficial optometry based statistics were gathered by various optometrists around the world.  By the early-1960’s, 2 out of every 5 males under 25 were found to have naturally violet coloured eyes – with each different case it was found that the eye colour of the boy’s parents were of no significance.  It was also noted that no girls ever displayed this characteristic, and boys with violet eyes rarely (if ever) had brothers with this eye colour. (1)

Shortly after the optometric statistics were recorded along with a government issued study a medical anomaly began to occur.  In Western Canada, a 19-year-old non-hermaphroditic male was found to be pregnant by natural means.  It was thought to be an isolated incident until a 21-year-old male in the same area was also discovered to be pregnant.  4 young men in Southern USA, 6 in the United Kingdom, 2 in Australia, and 12 in Eastern Canada were also found to be pregnant within the time frame of three months. Of the 25 young men who were pregnant, 7 were not homosexual.  These individuals were between the ages 16 and 21 – all whom had either experimented with a friend or had a drunken one-night-stand at a party.  All 25 individuals were found to have violet eyes.

These young men were placed in clinic hospitals where physical examinations concluded that there were no external indications of the ability to bear children.  Internally, however, doctors found in each a fully functional female-like reproductive system: a fully formed uterus connected to a sealed canal located between the scrotum and anus which was theorized to act as a woman’s cervix and open at the time of delivery.  In place of ovaries, a complex tubing system was connected to one of the testicles, it was discovered that a sperm travelled this tube and was mutated into an egg which allowed it to join with another sperm cell and form an embryo.  Due to the fact that none of these young men had ever experienced a menstrual cycle, and each had gotten pregnant from a first-time homosexual experience, it was theorized that a sperm cell was mutated into an egg cell once the presence of exterior sperm cells were detected.  These males were also able to impregnate females.  The theories were confirmed after the births of healthy children and additional pregnancies occurred.  A male pregnancy was found to last the same duration as a female pregnancy.

All males who were found pregnant were soon admitted to specifically designated clinical hospitals for study and the admission quickly became mandatory.  All the males admitted to these hospitals possessed violet eyes.  Within the following year, a study of 1000 violet eyed males worldwide was conducted on boys aged 6 months to 20-years-old.  It was discovered that none of these individuals showed any external _or_ internal signs of the ability to carry children naturally until around the age 5.  After that, the necessary internal organs developed until puberty and the boys’ skeletal structures also naturally altered to aid the carrying of children.  The _only_ external indication of this anomaly was the violet coloured eyes.

By the 1970’s 30% of those under the age of 30 were deemed to be what are now called “Carriers”.  Governments shut down the specialty hospitals, redirecting the funding where they were needed elsewhere.  Because Carriers were deemed not to be men and are not women (or even _human_ in many societies) it was decided, unanimously, that the rights awarded to “Natural’s” (men and women) did not apply to “unnatural” Carriers.  They were seen as inhuman and granted a lower status than domestic cats, dogs, and the like.  They were treated as property and pets or slaves, left uneducated and sold, traded, or given from one individual/household to the next – biological parents given top priority.  Carriers are required to be registered at birth and wear collars – tags are attached to the collar when the Carrier is owned.

Today, Pregnant females are socially treated as though they are merely ill – it is generally known that the woman is pregnant but nothing is discussed until the baby is born and it is deemed to be a Natural.  Should an infant turn out to be a Carrier, the parents can opt to dissolve their parental rights. The child will then become a ward of the state and be placed in a “Carrier House” to be cared for until sold. (2)  Carriers can be dropped off at a Carrier House at any point in their lives, much like an SPCA.

Carriers are given mandatory vasectomies but their ability to carry children is still left intact.  As a result, when a male Master “plays” with a pet/slave Carrier, the Carrier’s pregnancies are either routinely terminated or carried to term.  Natural children resulting from the coupling of a Master and Carrier are given partial rights and are ranked low in society and often only advance far if they were able to prove themselves amongst the Naturals.  They obtain jobs mainly as paid household servants and various low paid service jobs.  Carriers from any coupling are always deemed pets/slaves.

In North America, should the existence of a Carrier be unreported, the misinformation is punishable by mandatory prison sentence for the biological parents – unless the biological parents sever all ties with the Carrier.  Carriers are apprehended and immediately placed in a Carrier House where they are beaten or lashed should they fail to follow rules.  Should the Carrier refuse to comply it is sentenced to live the remainder of its life in a designated “Pleasure House”. (3)(4)

\- 30 -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Footnotes:  
> (1) Elizabeth Taylor is the only person in existence that I am aware of having naturally violet coloured eyes. Due to its rarity, I thought it would be an interesting plot twist. Of course, it must be assumed that in this ‘verse there is no possibility of a non-Carrier having violet eyes for the purpose of the storyline.  
> (2) “Carrier House” – cross between a dog pound and an orphanage.  
> (3) “Pleasure House” – a kind of government run Bawdy (pronounced “Body”) House (a house where prostitution takes place).  
> (4) Carriers in this society are deemed to not be humans, per se, and are commonly referred to as “it” instead of “he”.


	2. Greg

**_May, 5, 1975_ **

“Dorian, my water just broke,” Jacinda Sanders, formerly Hojem, told her husband.  It was very early in the morning and Jacinda was standing in the bathroom of their penthouse apartment in San Gabriel, California.  Her first signs of labour began the previous evening so Dorian Sanders (a paediatrician who began his career as an obstetrician) had called in a trusted colleague to assist in the birth of their first child, which would be delivered at home.  If his wife’s difficult pregnancy was anything to go by, this would be their _only_ child.  Jacinda walked around the apartment trying to stay as comfortable as possible given the contractions, the walking helped by giving her something to do.  She was thankful since she was never a woman able to sit in place and wait.

“It’s okay, Honey, just breathe,” Dorian offered his support as the contractions became closer together.  When the contractions were around four minutes apart Dorian and Merril (an obstetrician he worked with at the local hospital and long-time friend) readied the large bathtub that Jacinda would deliver in.  The two doctors helped Jacinda into the tub.

“Alright, Jaci,” Merril said. “I’m going to need you to start pushing on the next contraction.” She continued to coach the pregnant woman along with Dorian.  A full hour later Merril was removing a tiny baby boy from the water, allowing Dorian to cut the cord before carrying the infant to where the equipment was set up, leaving Dorian to ensure the afterbirth was delivered.  She placed the child on a table with a heat-lamp fixture over it to keep the baby warm and began to record the necessary information – time of birth, weight, length, hair colour – but gasped softly as the child opened his eyes.  She knew how much this child meant to her friends.  As Dorian helped his wife clean up Merril hatched a plan that would enable the Sanders to keep their beloved child.  She finished filling in most of the form – leaving “Eye Colour” and “Name” empty – then clothed the infant and placed a knitted cap on his head before carrying him through to the bedroom where Jacinda was now resting in bed.

“You did wonderfully, Darling,” Dorian said softly to his wife.

“He’s a beautiful baby, Jaci,” Merril commented as she entered the room.

“May I hold my son?” Jacinda said, taking note of the expression in Merril’s eyes.  The obstetrician carefully placed the infant in his mother’s arms.

“I left a few spaces blank,” Merril began, turning to the document. “I still need to fill out the name, and one other thing.” Jacinda and Dorian were both aware of what she was referring to even before their son opened his eyes.

“His name will be Gregory Hojem Sanders,” Dorian said.

“His eyes will be brown,” Jacinda stated.  Merril entered the information into the blank spaces.  She was happy that she hadn’t needed to voice her plan, the Sanders had already thought of it.

Together, the three fleshed out the plan.  Dorian Sanders was a paediatrician and it was decided that he would see to the medical care of the child while it was young.  Jacinda was an optometrist.  The two decided that their child would be home schooled until he became old enough to safely wear contact lenses. (1) At that point, he would wear brown coloured contact lenses and non-proscription eyeglasses to effectively hide the true colour of his eyes.  Merril, as an obstetrician, was recorded as the doctor who delivered the baby.  Also, the Sanders knew a few other doctors whom they could trust should the truth about baby Greg need to be known – Jacinda’s brother was a physician who could take over with Greg’s medical care once he reached a certain age and Dorian would no longer be (officially) seen as necessary.

\- - -

 **_Some years later_ **

Greg was excited there was no way around it.  It was his first day and he could hardly wait to start.  He’d loved staying at home, but it just wasn’t the same as being able to go out on his own feeling like he could take on the world single handed.  It was a bit strange, being away from home.  He’d done so before, but never to this extent.  One of his parents or some other family member or friend of the family was always close by, but here he was on his own.  Instead of fear, though, he felt empowered.

He knew he was different and he knew how he was different, his parents always made sure he understood.  They stressed how important the contacts and glasses his mother proscribed him were.  When he was younger, he hadn’t understood it.  When he’d first started wearing the contacts and glasses used to hide his eye colour, he’d been travelling the town with his father one day and they’d passed by what his father had called a “Carrier House”.  From the car little Greg could see the boys behind the foreboding wrought-iron fence surrounding the grey stone building.  They were, for lack of a better term, pathetic.  They glanced around hopelessly, each wearing a dog collar around his neck.  They were all different, his father explained, like him.

He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose once more as he exited the car and walked proudly into the front doors of the building.  He flashed his ID Badge and a charming smile at the female security guard and made his way to the office written on a piece of paper he pulled from his pocket.  The name _Gil Grissom_ was scrawled on the paper with a room number.  He glanced around wondering which direction he should be going in when a door to his left opened and the person exiting it crashed into him, sending him to the floor.

“Man, I’m sorry,” came a male voice from around where Greg’s head had been.  Greg looked up to see a tall black man with striking green eyes standing in front of him.

“Hey, no worries,” Greg smiled as he accepted the hand offered and stood up.

“I’m Warrick, by the way,” the man said as Greg dusted himself off and adjusted his glasses. “Warrick Brown. I’m a CSI here on nightshift.”

“Greg Sanders,” he introduced himself, shaking Warrick’s hand. “I’m the new DNA Tech, and I’m lost.” Warrick chuckled.

“Let me guess, you still need to check in with Grissom.” Greg nodded. “Well, you’re in luck I was just on my way there.” Greg followed his new colleague.  There were three people currently sitting in the office Warrick lead him to. “Hey Brass, I found that new Tech that was starting tonight,” Warrick greeted the man sitting behind the desk. “Actually, I kind of ploughed over him, but he seems okay.” Greg grinned.

“Nice to meet you Mr. Sanders,” Brass said as he stood and shook Greg’s hand. “I’m Jim Brass and I run the nightshift unit of CSI’s,” he greeted and introduced the other two. “Over here, we have Gil Grissom, he’s the supervising CSI when I’m not around and this lovely lady you see here is CSI Catherine Willows.” Greg shook the two CSI’s hands. “You already know Warrick, and CSI Nick Stokes will not be present tonight though you’ll most likely meet him tomorrow night.” After the introductions were made Gil (who preferred to be referred to by most of the younger colleagues as Grissom) lead Greg to the DNA lab to meet the current Tech that would train him a bit tonight before leaving for a job in Seattle tomorrow.

“I’ll leave you to get settled in, Carlton and you will most likely be taking care of samples left over from the dayshift Tech and if tonight remains slow you won’t be getting much new,” Grissom explained and left Greg and Carlton to their work.  It remained a slow night but Greg was able to prove his worth as he analysed the samples from days without much assistance. __

\- 30 -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Footnotes:  
> (1) I think soft contact lenses came around in the early 1970’s, but I’m not sure when coloured contact lenses were first made, I only know the first colour contact lenses were only good for people with light coloured eyes. However, for the purpose of this story, the contact lens timeline may have been altered (and most likely was) to fit the plot line.


	3. Newbies

Greg bounced happily into the locker room the next evening.  The conversation with his parents that morning was as expected.  They wanted to know how he was enjoying his new job, if he was sure he didn’t want to come back home, and if anyone suspected.  He assured them that he was indeed enjoying his job, he didn’t want to come back home, and no one seemed to suspect a thing.  He hummed a mindless little tune as he traded his jacket for his lab coat and chose a CD he’d brought with him to listen to this shift.  Despite the large amount of DNA evidence that was left over for him from days, he was just as happy today as he was yesterday.  He put the CD in the CD player and hit ‘Play’ before starting to analyse the pile of samples.  Half way through shift the door to the DNA lab opened.

“Hey, you must be the new guy,” a voice sounded through Greg’s music.  Greg adjusted the glasses he wore (he really thought he should get new ones, the frames on these made him look too much like a science nerd) and turned to look at the speaker and froze in place.  Standing in front of him was the sexiest man he’d ever laid eyes on. “My name’s Nick Stokes, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” the man continued in a somewhat thick Texan accent.

“Guh…” Greg was at a loss of words.

“You must be Greg,” Nick flashed a charming smile, which didn’t help Greg remember where he’d left his voice.  Maybe he’d put it through the GCMS…  Greg blinked then nodded.

“Um… yeah, I’m Greg.” _Very articulate_ , the voice in his head mocked. _And not to mention observant…_ Shut up, he retorted.  Oh, great, he was talking to the voice in his head now. _Now that’s not crazy…_

“Well, I know you’re a bit held up with the samples left over from the lazy days Tech, but when you get the chance, can you analyze this blood sample from my vic for anything that doesn’t belong there,” Nick explained, leaning casually against the table Greg was working at.

“Uh, yeah sure,” Greg managed and cleared his throat. “That’s what I’m here for.” Nick smiled widely,

“Thanks man, page me when you get it finished,” he said and left the lab.  Greg felt weak at the knees and stared off into space for a few moments.  He shook his head and tried to re-establish his focus on analysing the samples he’d been working on when Nick had entered.  He still had a dopey grin on his face an hour later when Catherine dropped off her samples.

“Who’s got you smiling like that?”

“What’re you talking about, Catherine?”

“You look like a love struck puppy,” Catherine smiled.

“Oh, um, no one,” Greg blushed.

“Uh huh,” Catherine continued to smile as though she knew the answer to her own question. “Well, page me when you get these samples done.”

The second time Nick made a trip to the lab – this time to get his results – Greg was able to keep his head a bit firmer on his shoulders. “You paged?” Nick grinned as he entered the lab.

“Yep, scanned for foreign elements, found large traces of a common sleeping pill,” Greg explained as he leaned toward Nick.

“Really? How large?” Nick asked he rested against the table again, leaning towards Greg and tilting his head a bit to the side.

“Well, from what I am aware of, enough to considerably slow the heart rate and breathing of whoever took it.”

“Hmm, that would certainly make it easier to drown a person and make it look like an accident. What do you think?” Nick smiled and Greg felt his own pulse quicken, his breath catching slightly.  The soothing sound of Nick’s drawl muddled Greg’s brain again and Greg leaned against the table as well.

“I’d say that’d do the trick.” Before Nick could comment further, Grissom entered the lab.

“Hey Nick, you get those results yet?” Nick and Greg quickly straightened up and took a step away from each other, Greg turning back to the samples Catherine had dropped off.

Over the next few months Greg found himself doing the same little dance with Nick.  Nick would bring in his samples, they’d flirt, Greg would analyse the samples and page Nick, they’d flirt some more, then someone would enter the lab – either Nick’s partner looking for the results or someone else looking for results or dropping off more samples.  Every day he’d come into work to a pile of evidence bags left over from dayshift – which he’d work on until one of the nightshift CSI’s brought something in then return to once their samples were taken care of.  Somewhere along the line Greg had talked his mother into sending him a more stylish pair of glasses – ones with a thinner wire frame.  Then one day a newbie showed up.

Her name was Holly Gribbs and it was her very first day as a CSI.  Greg never met her that night and, as it turned out, he never would.  Nick and Warrick were tied for promotion to CSI Level 3.  (Nick was assigned a trick-roll and as a result the two of them had a slightly strange, slightly suggestive discussion about swabs and which body cavity yielded the best results.)  Warrick had apparently stepped out of line on his case and was delegated to shadow duty for Gribbs.  Greg was unsure about how the whole thing went down, but he did know that Warrick had left the scene and Holly ended up getting shot.

After that, another newbie entered the Las Vegas Crime Lab – a CSI from San Francisco named Sara Sidle.  Tragically, Holly Gribbs hadn’t survived the gunshot wound.  Jim Brass was demoted back to Homicide and Grissom was promoted from Lead CSI to Supervisor of the nightshift, Catherine (as always) being his second-in-command.  After Sara finished her investigation of Holly Gribbs’ murder, she chose to remain in Las Vegas.

“Hey Sara,” Greg greeted one shift. “What you got for me?”

“I need you to analyse some skin cells that were under my vic’s nails and see if you can get any DNA off this hair that was recovered from the scene.”

“No problemo,” Greg replied as he took the samples.

“Page me when they’re done,” she said as she left.

“Always do.”

\- - -

Shift had ended and Greg was in the process of swapping his lab coat with his jacket when Nick entered locker room. “Hey, Greggo, what you up to now?”

“Me? Absolutely nothing,” Greg replied as he rifled through the CDs stashed in his locker. “I was just going to go home, nuke a TV dinner and watch whatever unstimulating Saturday morning cartoon they’re attempting to use to educate the children of today.”

“Sounds fun,” Nick grinned and glanced over to see Greg pull a face.  He laughed. “I guess not. Hey, why we go grab a bite? Y’know, just you and me.”

“Hmm, almost sounds like a date,” Greg smiled and glanced over at Nick.

“We don’t have to, I mean it’s not that big a deal, I just figured, y’know, that we’ve known each other for a few months now and, well I kinda like you and you seem to kinda like me back, I just-” Nick stopped talking when Greg placed a hand over his mouth.  He looked to see Greg almost laughing.

“I’d love to go to breakfast with you, Nicky.”

“Alright, let me just grab my coat,” Nick said once Greg removed his hand.  They took Nick’s truck and drove to little diner not too far away – one that was frequented by the CSI’s.  At work they flirted at every opportunity and it had become part of their normal dialogue, but now that they were in a different setting (and on a date) they were surprised at how nervous they were. “So, um, I don’t think I asked you how you were liking Las Vegas,” Nick said as he fiddled with a napkin.

“Oh, I, it’s nice. But I do miss home sometimes.”

“San Gabriel, right?”

“Yeah, with my parents. I missed it when I was at Stanford too,” Greg mused. “I mean, I loved university, I loved learning – still do.”

“It’s just not the same as home,” Nick finished.  Greg nodded and a waitress approached their table.

“What can I get you boys?” a pale, dark blonde haired woman in a light blue waitress outfit with the name “Marci” on her name tag asked.  They placed their orders and continued to talk.  Over the next hour their conversation became more natural, like their flirting was at work.

“Can I tell you something and you promise not to laugh?” Greg asked as they sat sipping on decaf coffee.

“Sure.”

“I’ve never date before,” Greg blushed.

“Now I find that hard to believe,” Nick responded honestly. “You look like the kind of guy anyone, if not everyone, wants to be with.”

“You’re just biased,” Greg grinned and pushed his glasses back into place. “No one wants a four-eyed science geek.”

“Maybe I am biased,” Nick reached over and took Greg’s hand. “But I know I’m the lucky one here.”

“Yeah, well, it’s kind of hard to play the field when your parents tend to stick close by,” Greg said as he took another sip.

“They worry about you, don’t they?”

“Worry is an understatement where my parents are concerned. In school they wouldn’t let me play sports because of my glasses,” Greg explained.  It was partially the truth, Greg’s parents were afraid something would happen and his contacts would slip, letting out his secret.

“They’re probably just afraid of you getting hurt. You’re their only child, right?” Greg nodded. “I’m the youngest of seven children – all my older siblings are girls.” At least all his Natural siblings had been girls.  There had been two Carriers that the family didn’t talk about – only to let their children understand the “Carrier situation” and not to say anything.

“Wow, that must’ve been hell,” Greg chuckled.

“Oh no, it was great… compared to sitting in a tub full of scissors.” Greg laughed at his new boyfriend’s comment. “It was horrible when I was a small child,” Nick continued. “They treated me like one of their dolls, dressing me up in dresses and sun hats and putting make-up and nail polish on me.” At the image of Nick dressed as a woman, Greg couldn’t stop the laughs that escaped his throat, though he did try.

“Oh, my, God, you poor thing,” Greg felt like throwing his arms around Nick as the man blushed.

“At least you’re amused,” Nick commented wryly.

“Aww,” Greg moved to the seat beside Nick and did wrap his arms around the man. “It’s okay. You’re still all man to me.” They grinned at each other as the smiling waitress brought them their bill – she’d heard the entire conversation and thought it was cute.  They paid for their breakfast and exited the diner – well, Nick paid as he’d insisted that it was proper since he’d asked Greg out.  They walked out hand-in-hand, their first date leaving them waiting for their second.

\- 30 -


	4. Caught and Claimed

Greg stretched, hearing his joints pop as he moved from the position he’d been working in for the past five hours.  His shift was over and he was just waiting for the results of the last sample he had to analyse – one from the seemingly ever present pile of samples left over from dayshift.  Days was in the middle of training a new Tech, and this one knew even less of what he was doing than the last one.  Greg had just pulled yet another double to cover for the befuddled Days Tech – something he’d been doing about four times a week since he’d started for the past seven months.  _At least I’ve never worked a triple_ , he thought to himself.  The printer spat out the results and he placed the paper into the correctly marked folder with the rest of the paperwork he’d filled out, placing the folder on top of the “Completed” stack for Days.  In his head he did a happy dance for finally analyzing all the samples he’d been given and filling out all the required paperwork.  It was late in the evening (the sun had already gone down) and both he and Nick had the night off – they’d been dating for four months now.  It was a Friday and the two planned to party it up in one of the various clubs in Vegas to let off some steam and dance off the tension from work.  As he turned to leave Conrad Ecklie, the dayshift supervisor, strode in.

“Have you analyzed all the samples that were left at the beginning of your shift as well as what was brought in after?” Ecklie demanded without so much as a hello.

“Yeah, I just finished off the last one,” Greg said as he picked up the rather large pile of folders. “Here you go,” he deposited the stack in Ecklie’s arms, blinking tiredly, before moving to go to the locker room and clock out.

“Hey, Sanders,” Ecklie called when Greg reached for the door handle.

“Yeah?” Greg turned back to look at Ecklie, wanting nothing more than to high-tail it out of there and take a shower before Nick dropped by and they headed out.  He was unnerved, however, from the strange look Ecklie was currently shooting his way.

“Do you wear contact lenses?” Ecklie asked, tilting his head slightly to one side.  Greg’s heart pounded nervously in his chest.

“No,” Greg frowned and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.  He wandered into the locker room and changed into his street wear before heading home.  He couldn’t get the expression on Ecklie’s face out of his head as he stood under the hot spray coming out of the shower head.  The calculating look the Days supervisor gave him was almost enough to chill his spine at the thought of what Ecklie could be piecing together in his thick skull.  He leaned forward into the wall, letting the shower massage his back muscles, easing the tension he felt.  It always unnerved him when someone made any comment about his eyes – or even eyes in general.  He felt like he was wearing a bright neon sign with an arrow pointed directly at his skull, telling the world his secret.  He rinsed the last of the bubbly soap of his skin and stepped out.  Standing in front of the steamed up mirror he raised a hand, wiping away a portion of the tiny moisture beads that had settled there.  Slowly, he lifted his gaze to see his true violet gaze staring back at him.

At times, he hated the brown coloured contact lenses… _despised_ them.  The glasses too.  But at the same time he savoured the freedom they offered him.  He remembered vividly what he’d seen of a Carrier House when he was young.  The empty look the Carriers behind the gates gave him as he sat in the passenger seat of his father car.  They looked so vulnerable and used.  It was depressing.  He lived in constant fear that, one day, people would find out what the contacts hid.  They’d find out and his life as it was would be over.  He’d be carted away and made a slave – if he was lucky.  Being a slave was far better than being a pet.  As a slave he would have a purpose.  A degrading purpose, but a purpose.  As a pet, he’d be little more than a plaything, an object that was there like a decoration.  He’d live in a cage and be chained to a wall in some rich family’s home or office.

He lowered his gaze and searched for a pair of contacts he could use.  As he slipped them expertly onto his eyes, he thought of his colleagues and what they would think if they knew the truth – what Nick would think.  Warrick and Sara might be slightly understanding, and maybe even Hodges (the Trace Tech).  They were all products of a Natural and a Carrier.  But his hopes weren’t too high.  Nick, Catherine and Grissom, on the other hand, they all had two Naturals as parents.  They would never be understanding of his condition.

He sighed and looked back up at his reflection, taking in the changes that resulted from the darker coloured irises.  Sometimes, when he was without the contacts, he thought he looked a bit demonic with his pale skin and the pale, oddly coloured eyes.  His mother said the violet made him look beautiful, but he was sure that was just a mother’s opinion.

He grabbed a towel and dried himself off, dropping a second towel on the floor to sop up the water that had dripped off him.  Wrapping the towel around his waist he padded into his bedroom in search of an outfit.  He chose low riding black jeans with a silver studded belt, and a blood red wife beater. (2)  He pulled black runners over his socked feet before picking out accessories.  A hemp necklace he’d made himself with the prism beads his mother had given him once when he was a teenager and a silver studded black wrist band on one wrist.  He wandered back into the bathroom and expertly gelled his hair much like he did at work.  He’d just slipped his apartment key, his debit cart, ID and cell into his jeans pockets when a knock sounded at the door.  He made sure he had a spare set of contacts before he answered the door.

“Hey Cowboy,” Greg greeted.  Nick was dressed in form fitting blue jeans that hugged him in all the right places and a tight black t-shirt that showed off his muscular build, damn, did Greg think he was sexy.  It was the middle of summer so he opted against a jacket.  They called a cab and were soon entering their favourite club.  Every time the came here it was always the same: loud music, lots of body heat, and good booze.  The two immediately took a spot on the dance floor, moving to a techno remix of Rednex’s “Cotton-Eyed Joe”. Three hours, and more than a few too many shots, later Greg was being pressed up against the wall of Nick’s apartment as Nick was attempting to devour him.  A blink later and they were making out on Nick’s bed without shirts fumbling with belts and pants.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Nick’s alcohol induced raspy voice commented looking into Greg’s eyes as they removed boxers as well.  If they hadn’t been as intoxicated as they were, they’d have both realized that at some point Greg had lost both his glasses and his contacts somewhere between the front door and the bed.  As it was, they relished in the sensations they were experiencing as their skin made contact with one another.  Even in his drunken state Nick was gentle with Greg as he prepared the younger man and laid his claim.  Greg was completely lost to reality as the pleasure he experienced from Nick moving inside him washed over him.  He pulled the larger man close to him, wrapping his legs around the Texan’s waist, matching his thrusts.  They paid no heed to neighbours as they shouted each other’s names, cried for more.  They were unconcerned as Greg felt Nick ejaculate inside him, both – while sober – understanding the consequences of the act they were committing.  They lay side by side in the after glow of their passion, allowing the alcohol that raged through their systems to lull them into dreamless sleep.

A few hours later a still somewhat intoxicated Greg awoke to find himself in a situation he’d feared for most of his life.  He unsteadily climbed out of the bed and pulled on his clothes.  He stumbled to the mirror above Nick’s dresser, extracted the spare contact case out of his jeans pocket and, with the accuracy developed over so many years of practice, was able to easily slip the brown contacts onto his eyes without injury.  He dropped the contact case on the floor and drunkenly made his way down the hall where he found his shoes and pulled them on before pulling out his cell phone a calling a cab.

He stumbled through his apartment door, dropping the items in his pockets on the kitchen table before staggering to the bathroom where he managed to extract the contacts without much trouble.  He splashed water onto his face and pat it away with a discarded towel before slowly dragging his feet to his bedroom.  Three steps into the room, his wrists were grabbed and his arms twisted painfully behind his back.  A black bag slipped over his head and he let out a scream. (3)

\- 30 -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Footnotes:  
> (1) the “Dark Mark” sweat band is a Harry Potter item. I once owned one until I went against my instincts and let my younger cousing borrow it and never got it back.  
> (2) who in the hell came up with the phrase “wife beater” anyways?  
> (3) the bag thing is an idea inspired by the movie “V for Vendetta”… or shamefully stolen, depending on how you want to look at it.


	5. Days and Nights

Nick entered the Crime Lab the next evening, the hangover he’d woken up to that morning still present – though was now small enough that it was ignorable.  He looked up to see Warrick walking down the hall.

“Hey Nick,” Warrick greeted when he seen Nick. “You look like you had some fun yesterday,” Warrick commented.  Nick, while he did look professional, did have the aura of having partied a little too hard.

“Uh, yeah, Greg and I went out clubbing since we both had the night off,” Nick blushed as the two men entered the locker room where Sara was tying her work shoes.  The team was well aware of Nick and Greg’s relationship and none had a problem with it – so long as it didn’t interfere with work.  The nightshift CSI’s had really taken to the young lab tech – even though he wasn’t a CSI, he was very enthusiastic about learning what he could from all of them.  For most he was like a kid brother or son who liked to follow them around.  Despite the fact that he was a Tech, the team had taken him under their wing and allowed his odd quirks and interests to flourish over the past seven months that he’d been working (even if he did have a tendency to annoy them when they just wanted their results and not a three act play).

“Hey guys,” Sara greeted with her wide gap-toothed smile. “How’s Greg doing, Nick? He’d asked me to pick him up for work today since his car’s in the shop but when I dropped by he wasn’t there. I figured he’d crashed at your place.” Nick frowned.

“Honestly, I don’t know. He’d left by the time I woke up. I know he was at my place at some point last night, his glasses and wrist band were on my coffee table this morning,” Nick replied, producing the items in question and placing them in his locker before changing into his work shirt and shoes. “I figured he’d caught a cab or something.” Both Sara and Warrick frowned as well.  The three finished getting ready and went to Grissom’s office for assignments.

“Hey, have any of you seen Greg today?” was the first thing Grissom asked as the three entered.  Their frowns deepened.

“I saw him last night,” Nick replied and took a seat and Warrick shook his head, leaning against the wall.

“I was supposed to drive him to work today,” Sara said as she also took a seat. “But he wasn’t at home.”

“Why?” Warrick asked.  Before Grissom could say anything Catherine came dashing through the door.

“Greg… he…” she was completely out of breath.

“What about Greg?” Nick asked as he offered her his seat, which she gladly took trying to calm down.

“He was taken by the Kingsmen,” she blurted out.  The four in the room looked at her as though she’d sprouted two more heads.  For a long while no one seemed to be able to say anything.

“Kingsmen?” Sara asked, confused. “But… How can that be?”

“Greg’s a Carrier?” Warrick asked what was on all their minds.  The Kingsmen were a special unit of police that monitored the registration and regulation of Carriers around the country.  They were nicknamed Kingsmen after the founder of the unit, Cresswell King a man whose family never had any Carriers in its line – unspoken of or otherwise.  One of their main jobs was to apprehend stray Carriers who hadn’t been registered and place them in the proper custody – something that happened more often than people realized.

“How do you know this, Catherine?” Grissom asked as he processed the information.

“On my way here I overheard Brass talking with the Assistant Lab Director and Ecklie,” she explained.

“Ecklie?” Before she could comment Jim Brass entered the office.

“Is it true?” Sara asked before he could say anything.

“Where did they take him?” Nick demanded.

“Yes, it’s true,” Brass sighed. “I don’t know where he’s been taken. I do know that he was apprehended in his apartment sometime in the early hours of this morning.”

“Jim, what does Ecklie have to do with this?” Grissom asked.

“I don’t know but he was extremely interested to know whether or not what he’d termed as the “sexually deviant breeding filth” had been dealt with.”

\- - -

Later that night the five CSI’s attempted to stay focused on their job but their thoughts continued to stray to the young man who had become a dear friend in only a short time and a family member not long after.  Nick couldn’t help but sigh as he photographed various pieces of evidence.  This scene reminded him of Greg and what they’d learned earlier.  He wasn’t sure what he should be feeling – he knew most people would feel revulsion and deceived, but he didn’t.  For the most part, Nick pushed down any feelings at all and focused on his work.  He knew what society thought of Carriers, and what they did to them.  His parents had begun purchasing them when they’d started having children.  At the moment there were six – the oldest two having helped raise him and his sisters.  Regardless, he was sickened by the mistreatment he witnessed every day and today was no exception.

Given public opinions of Carriers when Nick had entered university he’d been surprised to learn in his criminal justice classes about all the laws pertaining to them.  These individuals did not have the same rights as Naturals, but they did have _some_ rights – just under different pieces of legislation than the rest of society.  For instance the _Carrier Livelihood Act_ that had been passed in 1979.  This law provided certain provisions allowing for criminal prosecution should any disciplinary action of a Master result in the death of the Carrier pet or Carrier slave.  It was deemed that while they did not have rights as humans, as living beings they did have the right to life – providing they obeyed the regulation laws.

So here he was investigating a scene where a Carrier pet had been gutted – apparent COD was blood loss.  It was a gruesome sight he and Warrick had arrived to.  The body of the Carrier hadn’t been removed yet as the coroner hadn’t arrived.  Its stomach was sliced opened and its innards were spread over the floor of its cage.  The body was still chained to the wall.  Sometimes he hated his job.

\- - -

It was nearing the end of shift.  For Catherine and Sara the status of their murder-suicide made it certain they were in for a double.  As they poured over evidence and crime scene photographs they heard the superior tones of the dayshift supervisor’s voice in the hall outside their opened layout room door.

“So Gil, I hear that bottom-dwelling thing that tried to pass off as human was disposed of,” Ecklie smirked at the nightshift supervisor.

“Greg wasn’t a thing, Conrad, and he _is_ human,” Grissom replied coolly. “Why aren’t you more concerned? He was the best analyst we had in this lab.”

“ _That’s_ what I’m concerned about,” Ecklie replied. “Just the thought of the damage those botched results it caused is enough to make anyone worry.”

“ _He_ never ‘botched’ the analysis of _any_ case,” Grissom glared.

“Say what you want about _it,_ I know the Director will see it my way.  After all, if the contact hadn’t slipped this lab would’ve allowed the tainted results to incarcerate _more_ innocent people and allow the _real_ criminals to walk free.” Sara gasped and Catherine looked up from the crime scene photo she’d been pretending to analyse in horror.  Nick and Warrick in the layout room across the hall moved from their evidence to stand in the doorway, similar emotions playing in their eyes.

“ _You’re_ the one who reported him?” Grissom asked incredulously, though when he stopped to think it over it wasn’t all that surprising.  It was a fact that Days and Nights never got along and they competed with everything.  So it wasn’t news that the Days supervisor hated that a Tech on Nights was keeping the DNA lab running – were it not for Greg, samples would rarely get processed. “It must’ve delighted you to no end to discover that a Nights Tech didn’t have the adequate criteria to allow him the respect his work deserved.”

“Stop sympathizing with those creatures, it’s unbecoming for a man of your professional stature,” Ecklie said and walked away.

\- 30 -


	6. Arrival

Greg’s head was pounding from the most recent beating he’d received.  So far he hadn’t been beaten in a way that would cause him to lose the child he’d conceived three months prior.  In the beginning that was what he’d feared the most, when the beatings were frequent.  He thought back to when he’d first arrived here.  By the time the van transporting him reached wherever it is that he was even the hangover was wearing off. 

 **_flashback_ **

He groaned and rolled over onto his side.  His hangover was making his skull feel like it was splitting in two.  He opened his eyes and tried to figure out why it was so dark.  There was something he was forgetting.  He blinked and tried to remember what happened.  He remembered being at work, he’d just finished analysing the last sample when Ecklie had entered the room.  He remembered the weird look he’d received and how he’d gone to the locker room after.  He could clearly remember coming home and taking a shower, putting in his contacts and picking out his clothes.  He remembered Nick and arriving at the club.  After that, the memories became jumbled and incoherent.

There were flashes of he and Nick dancing up against each other… a cab ride… the two downing shots… Nick’s body pressed up against his leaning against the wall in Nick’s apartment.  Then there were images and feelings and sounds.  Nick attacking his neck with his lips… bare skin rubbing against bare skin… heated kisses… his own voice shouting Nick’s name, thick with pleasure… Nick thrusting into him… Nick’s voice calling him beautiful…

Then he remembered, and it all made sense.  He’d allowed Nick to take him, to claim him completely.  They’d fallen into an alcohol induced sleep and Greg had woken up some hours later.  He’d snuck out of Nick’s apartment and gone home.  Once at home, he’d removed his contacts and gone into his bedroom.  Then the bag was slipped over his head and he woke up here.  He could feel the floor he was on jostle slightly and figured he was in the back of a transport van.

He tried to push himself into a sitting position only to discover his wrists were bound together behind him.  Panicking, he struggled against the binds but to his dismay the held strong.  He felt hot tears stinging his eyes as the truth of his situation began to set in.  His parents would publicly disown him.  They had to unless they wanted to face incarceration.  His coworkers would be disgusted with him when they found out.  Worst of all, Nick would hate him for his lie.  He knew all this, had known it all along, but the realization still broke his heart, and a bit of his spirit.  The Carrier House would break the rest of it.  He was all too aware of what would happen to him, and it terrified him.

Lost in his own personal sorrow he failed to register the movement of the vehicle had stopped.  He jumped when he heard the door squeak open and flinched when someone roughly hauled him out and onto his feet.  He was dragged blindly into a building and down a hall which, to Greg’s scared mind, seemed to go on forever.  Once they’d reached their destination the bindings on his wrists were cut, the bag on his head removed, and his clothes ripped and cut from his body.  He was thrown into a shower stall where his bare skin was struck with an icy spray.  Naked, shivering, and wet he was forced into a chair, his wrists, ankles, and neck secured by leather straps.  With speed and accuracy, the “Processors” – people who readied apprehended or return Carriers for entrance to the House – shaved the hair from his head.  A twelve digit serial number was expertly tattooed into his left forearm in ornate digits. (It wouldn’t do if the angry black ink couldn’t be proudly displayed by the Master who purchased him.)  He never made a sound as the needle stabbed his skin.  Once done the forearm was bandaged and a needle was shoved through his right upper ear, a large silver ring quickly placed in the hole – the kind reserved only for Carriers.

He was un-strapped and dragged into the adjacent room where he was re-strapped – to a table this time – with his legs spread.  A man dressed in a white lab coat entered the room.  He surveyed Greg, taking in his nude form and nodded appraisingly.  The man seated himself at the end of the table between Greg’s legs and began to examine him.  After a few short minutes the man tsked and stood.  “It’s used,” the he informed one of the guards with a scowl. “Fairly recently by the looks of it. Most likely a few hours before it was apprehended.” The two looked back to Greg.

“Is it possible its’ use may be salvaged?” the guard asked and the Examiner shook his head.

“With _its’_ kind, there’s complete certainty that it has already conceived by now. A pity that such beauty should go to waste.”

A plain black collar was then placed around his neck.  The Examiner re-took his position at the end of the table and performed the required vasectomy. (1) The straps around his wrists and ankles were removed and the guard the Examiner had spoken to tossed him a worn out baggy tank-top and pyjama-like pants instructing him to dress. “You will do as you are told and obey your superiors,” the guard explained. “You will not look Naturals in the eye as your kind is not fit to have that privilege. You will not speak unless instructed to do so. Any resistance will result in the punishment deserved by your kind.” Greg glanced up at the man and immediately received a hard backhand across his left cheek. “ _What_ did I just tell you?” the guard bellowed.

 **_end flashback_ **

Every time he refused to comply he received a beating or lashing and learned to follow the rules within the first two weeks.  It had been almost two months since he’d last slipped up, fearing for the un-born child he and Nick had created that night.

He lay in the large holding cell he’d been tossed into with about thirty or so other Carriers of various ages, feeling blood drip from a cut along his hairline above his left eye.  Most of the time, the others kept their distance from him – especially the older ones.  They resented the life he’d lead before coming here and the freedom he’d been granted.  The vast majority of them had been placed in a Carrier House at birth.  A great deal of the older ones had been pets, discarded before they’d reached puberty.  It was rare that a Master would purchase a teenage Carrier – regardless of status a teenager was a teenager.

Since Carrier slaves were more likely to be purchased if they had useful skills, Carrier Houses trained all their wards in a small variety of tasks: kitchen work, house cleaning, childcare, gardening and maintenance.  Some of the pretty ones were trained in “comfort” as it was called, and bound to a Carrier House.

Each of their skills and qualities were advertised by the colours of the collars they wore.  The collars could be a solid colour to show one skill or quality, or could have designs in additional colours to show they also had skills in other areas.

Children were given white collars.  This showed that they were new to Carrier Houses and were still virgins.  Kitchen slaves wore red collars, housekeeping slaves wore orange, childcare was signified by yellow, gardening by green, and maintenance by blue.  Comfort Slaves wore indigo collars – their services were offered through the Carrier House that owned them, all money they brought in going to the House’s funding.  Violet and Brown signified Carriers that had been in Carrier Houses before: Violet meaning the Carrier had been pregnant before but never carried the foetus to term, Brown meaning the Carrier had also been pregnant before but had carried the foetus to term.  Lastly there was Black.

Along with children, Carriers who had been apprehended were usually given white collars.  But there were times when, like Greg, the apprehended Carrier was pregnant at the time they’d entered the Carrier House or it was proven that they’d been pregnant prior to arrival.  Like white, the black signified that the individual was new to the Carrier Houses, but unlike white these collars carried with them a burden of shame.  No one wanted a used Carrier, not even for comfort.

“What’s the matter, slut?” One of the older Carriers sneered at Greg. “Naturals give you a hard time? Or was it good like the Canon who bred you?” The others laughed.  Canon, a derogatory term Carriers used to refer to Naturals and their “holier than thou” attitude about what made an acceptable human being and what didn’t.  Greg didn’t react to the taunts, fixing his gaze on the stone ceiling.  They were always berating him, calling him things like ‘slut’, ‘whore’, and ‘breeder’.

Whenever prospective Masters arranged for a viewing of the Carriers in this House, the group would be separated out into smaller cells in a hallway.  The customer would wander down the hallway like he was browsing a store.  Greg was always placed in the last cell by himself.  By the time his injuries healed completely he was four months pregnant and his condition was obvious without the collar he wore.  His hair had grown back as well, though it was still shorter than it had been when he arrived.  He never saw the customers who looked at him through the bars and commented loudly on his pathetic state, belittling him for his condition.  The last time he’d glanced up during a viewing he’d received a hard lashing.  He leaned against the wall of his cell, his hand lying on his rounded stomach as he stared blankly at the opposite wall.

He tried to ignore the voices in the hall, focusing on the light fluttering of the baby in his womb as it moved.  The current customers stopped in front of his cell. “Don’t know why you bother showing this one,” a woman’s Southern accent scoffed.

“If terminating this thing’s offspring weren’t so costly it could probably go for a somewhat decent price,” a man’s voice commented.

“A pity,” the woman agreed. “It’s quite beautiful for a creature of its kind.”

“Yeah, well, I think we’ll go with the blonde orange-collar in the third cell we looked at, what do you think dear?” the man said as the voices moved away.

“Yes it’ll do quite nicely,” the woman agreed.

“A fine choice Sir and Madam,” a guard commented.  Greg felt a tear escape and roll down his cheek.  This happened every week, he should be use to the comments by now but they always hurt.  For a moment he allowed himself to fantasize what it could have been like if his kind were accepted.  And for a moment, he allowed himself to dream of what life could have been like with Nick.

\- 30 -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Footnotes:  
> (1) I couldn’t find adequate information on this procedure – well, it’s not like I really took the time to really research it – so I’m just glossing it over and disregarding a lot.


	7. A Year and A Day

Warrick yawned as he opened his locker.  He’d just woken up after a double shift and wasn’t exactly looking forward to tonight.  It had been five months since the quirky DNA Tech had been apprehended and tonight was going to be hard on everyone who worked Nights.  He thought back to exactly what he’d done at this exact time one year prior.

 **_flashback_ **

He’d been running late and was in a bit of a hurry to make it to assignments.  Without watching what he was doing he’d dashed out the locker room door and slammed into something.  Glancing down he was a bit surprised to see a bleached blonde spiky-haired kid with thick rimmed glasses and a shirt that looked like it belonged in the 70’s – and probably _was_ from the 70’s.  He was a certified science nerd. “Man, I’m sorry,” Warrick said looking at the slightly dazed and confused expression the kid had as he registered his new surroundings.  He looked up at him and smiled.  Warrick extended his hand and pulled the young man to his feet.

“Hey, no worries,” the spiky-haired youth replied energetically.

“I’m Warrick, by the way,” he introduced himself as the young man readjusted the thick-rimmed glasses he wore and dusted himself off. “Warrick Brown.  I’m a CSI here on nightshift.”

“Greg Sanders,” the kid replied, extending a hand. “I’m the new DNA Tech,” Warrick shook his hand surprised.  This kid looked like he was directly out of high school. “And I’m lost.” At Greg’s last statement, Warrick couldn’t hold back a chuckle.  Countless newbies to the building wound up going temporarily MIA in the maze that was the Las Vegas Crime Lab on their first day (or night as the case may be).

“Let me guess,” Warrick started. “You still need to check in with Grissom.” Greg nodded with a shy grin. “Well, you’re in luck I was just on my way there.” With that, Warrick lead what would turn out to be a close friend and little brother to Jim Brass’ office where the other CSI’s were sure to be.

 **_end flashback_ **

He sighed quietly at the memory and changed into his work boots.  As he was tying his laces Nick entered the locker room with a haunted look on his features.  He’d taken Greg’s disappearance the hardest.  The Texan had been trying, with every resource at his disposal, for the past five months to locate where the young Californian had been taken but had turned up nothing.  That information was outside of their jurisdiction and even Brass hadn’t been able to find anything useful.  Nick had taken to using his proscription eyeglasses more often lately.  Today Warrick noticed a difference in the wire frame that was familiar but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

“Hey Nick,” Warrick called softly.  Nick glanced up and gave him a ghost of a smile.

“Hey Warrick.” Nick opened his locker and removed his jacket.  Warrick saw clearly something else familiar adorning Nick’s right wrist – the silver studded black wristband Greg had left behind the night he was apprehended.  After Brass had told them what happened to Greg, he’d pulled some strings and was able to get Greg’s possessions released to the supervising CSI on Nightshift due to the fact that Greg had been an employee and the Director of the lab was putting everything Greg had done under review.  Brass had found a loophole that just barely allowed the transfer of ownership, but it got it done.  Grissom had placed Greg’s things in storage.  Despite the Nights supervisor’s inability to identify with other people, couldn’t bring himself to discard the items and allowed the rest of the CSI’s to take a few sentimental items.  Probably in hopes it would help Nick deal with the situation.  Then it hit him.

He looked back to the glasses Nick wore and it all fell into place – they were the new pair Greg got himself to celebrate his new job.  He’d been so proud the day he’d received them.  The thinner frames had downgraded him from science nerd to science geek.  He thought of what Nick had confided in him, swearing him to secrecy.  He’d told him everything he could remember from that last drunken night with Greg.  Told how he could remember the passion in the younger man’s violet hued eyes.  They’d both understood what had resulted for Greg and that hurt Nick even more, making him triple his efforts to find the young Tech, no matter how useless they turned out to be.

As he finished with his laces Warrick shut his locker and exited the room.  He absentmindedly reached up and fingered the silver guitar pendant that hung from the leather string on his neck – one of the sentimental objects he’d taken from Greg’s things – and prayed the young man pulled through whatever was thrown at him.

\- - -

Catherine sat in the break room with a now cold cup of government provided sludge they had the nerve to call coffee.  She’d poured it for herself but hadn’t taken a sip, just sat on the couch with the cooling liquid held in her hands.  She sighed and remembered the first time Greg had produced his own secret stash – Blue Hawaiian he’d called it.  Ever since the team had the pleasure of tasting the brand they’d been unable to drink what work provided without cringing even more than they had before.  She remembered the day he’d first showed up at the lab.  They’d been in Brass’ office when Warrick had entered with what looked to her to be a boy in tow.  He had thick black rimmed glasses and blond-dyed hair that was spiked in various directions.  She’d smiled sadly as she recalled the way he’d bounced excitedly in place.  He was so full of energy and was always quick to make people smile.

Sara walked into the break room and took a root beer from the fridge before sitting on the opposite end of the couch.  She stared blankly at the coffee table.  She hadn’t been here when Greg had started but she was well aware of significance of the day.  It made her sad to think that he’d never been given the opportunity to see this day in the lab, _‘Where he belongs,’_ she thought.  The two had become friends in the short time they’d known each other, and she found that she’d come to care for the young man as she cared for her older brother.  She thought of her own parents.  Her father had impregnated one of his Carriers and when she was born he’d acknowledged her as his child.  He was kind to his two children, born from the same Carrier, but he was not as kind to the Carrier.  Her Carrier parent had endured several beatings from her father and one day he couldn’t take the abuse any more and had fought back, killing her father.

\- - -

“Were you able to confirm anything with that Lieutenant friend of yours?” Gil asked Jim as the two sat in Gil’s office.  The two older men were the most composed of the Nightshift.  They’d been around long enough that they’d come to accept the way the world worked – accept but never agree with.  Even they were worried about the fate of the spiky-haired kid with everything going for him – well, everything but this.

“Not much,” Jim replied sighing. “What I _was_ able to find out, though, was a bit interesting, but not helpful.”

“Interesting? How?” Gil’s brows furrowed.

“There’s word on the Force of a Carrier, apprehended from Vegas, that was categorized as a black-collar.”

“He was pregnant?” Gil blinked. “Was he aware of the fact before hand? Or did he find out after?”

“I think that’s something you’d have to ask Nick.”

\- - -

Nick lay curled on his side in bed, the blackout curtains effectively blocking out the Vegas sun.  Last night’s shift had been difficult for everyone, well almost everyone.  Nick was saddened by it since last night would have been the one year mark of Greg working at the lab.  But for Nick, tonight was going to be even worse.  It had been one year tonight since he’d first set eyes on the zany lab rat, and a year and a day since he altered the state of the Crime Lab for the better.  As he felt his heart break one more time, he knew nothing was ever going to be the same.

\- 30 -


	8. Daybreak

Greg found himself in his lonely viewing cell once more.  As the months went by the other Carriers came and went, he was the only one left from the group that had been there when he’d arrived.  He winced as his child gave him a rather hard kick and massaged the spot.  He focused on the turning of his child as the most recent customers came to his cell.

“How old is it?” He heard the woman’s voice ask the guard.

“Twenty-five,” the guard replied.

“How far along is it?” the man asked.

“Seven months,” the guard replied, disgust evident in his voice.

“How far along was it when it was apprehended?” the woman asked.

“It had barely conceived by then. According to the Examiner this is its’ first pregnancy.”

“Does it have any skills?”

“It has been trained in kitchen work.” Greg’s collar hadn’t been altered to reflect the training.  There was a pause as though the customers were thinking.  He heard them ask the guard for a few moments then heard the sounds of their voices whispering, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying.  The guard’s footsteps got louder as he walked back.

“Inform us when it has delivered,” the man said. “We’ll work something out once the offspring is dealt with.” Greg blinked in confusion though he didn’t look up.  He was so use to the condescending remarks that the man’s statement threw him.

\- - -

Greg clutched his stomach as he leaned against the wall in the holding cell.  He could feel his hair sticking to his forehead from the sweat as another contraction wracked his body.  He’d been having contractions since the viewing that day.  He was scared.  It was six weeks too soon for him to be in labour.  The guards had noticed about an hour ago.  He was beginning to think they didn’t give a damn when the Examiner’s voice drifted to his ears.

“Take it to the Birthing Cell before its’ water breaks.” Two guards entered the cell and dragged him to his feet.  They roughly led him to a bare stone room.  He looks around and takes in numerous blood stains that covered the floor, some bloody hand prints on the walls.  His clothing was removed and the guards thrust him to the floor.

“Who bred you?” the voice of the Examiner asked.  Greg wasn’t sure he wanted to answer. “Tell me the name of who bred you, Carrier, or I will cut it from you and leave you to bleed to death.” A large, very sharp looking knife was waved in front of his eyes.

“N-Nick…” Greg stuttered quietly, his voice raspy from disuse.  He cringed as another contraction made his body feel like it was ready to rip apart. “Nicholas Stokes,” he choked out as the contraction ended.

“Is he human, Carrier?” Human.  _‘He’s Natural, if that’s what you mean,’_ Greg thought but only nodded. “Where does he live?”

“Vegas.”

“What does he do in Las Vegas?”

“CSI.” As another contraction hits and the Examiner and guards leave the Birthing Cell, bolting the door shut behind them.  Once he is alone Greg allows the tears that have been burning his eyes for the past few hours to fall.  He lets out a strangled cry as a violent contraction shakes his body.  There is nothing in this barren room for him to grab hold of to attempt to ease the pain.  He lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling.  Through the high windows he can see the sun setting.

He rolls over onto his side when the contraction ebbs away.  Taking shaky breaths he tries to calm himself.  He knows that panicking at this point won’t do him or his child any good.  He curls up as much as his protruding stomach lets him and cries out in pain as contraction after contraction wracks his lean frame.  He tries to focus on things other than the pain as tears drip onto the bloodied floor.  He glances around the room and, despite the pain, wonders at how many others like himself were locked in this very room.  He takes in all the blood stains on the light grey walls and floor and wonders how many blood samples there are.

He thinks of Vegas and his job.  He wonders what happened to his apartment and his belongings.  The Kingsmen probably seized everything he’d owned.  He wonders what the replacement they’d found for him is like.  Is it a man? A woman? Another Stray?  He thinks about his colleagues.  He wishes he could be back there with them.  He wants to be there pretending to hit on Sara and play-flirt with Catherine.  He wants to make another bet with Warrick on how many times Hodges could kiss-ass in one shift.  He wants to attempt to impress Grissom yet again with one of his wayward theories.  He wants to annoy his colleagues with his obnoxiously loud rock music and wacky anti-fashion sense.  He even wants to analyse piles of samples that the Days Tech just couldn’t be bothered to get around to and put up with Ecklie hounding him if he isn’t doing them fast enough.

He thinks of his parents back in California.  He wonders if they’ve disowned him.  In a way he hopes they did.  He doesn’t want them to spend the rest of their lives in prison just because of him.  Just because they loved him.  He hopes the Kingsmen weren’t too hard on the people that helped them either.  They are all good, hard working people just trying to make a difference in the world.

Another contraction overtakes him and he focuses as best he can on thoughts of Nick.  He remembers the first time he set eyes on the Texan.  Remembers their first date, the first time Nick tenderly caressed his cheek, their first kiss.  He thinks back on their first time going to a club, the way they danced against each other, the way others looked at them with want and jealousy.  He remembers the first time they’d made out on the couch of his own apartment and how he’d considered letting Nick take him right then and there.  He can recall how understanding Nick was about wanting to take it slow in the physical department of their relationship.  He cries out as the pain rips through him and focuses on that night, the last one they spent together.  He remembers the way Nick looked as he stood in his door way wearing those “fuck me” jeans, as Greg liked to call them, and that nearly skin tight black t-shirt.  Greg had been hard pressed not to just drag Nick into the apartment and have the man take him over the kitchen counter.

\- - -

He was startled when a rush of clear liquid escaped his body but that was short lived as a violent contraction, worse than the ones he felt before, coursed through him.  The contractions became more frequent and blood had begun leaking from the birth canal that was now fully opened.  Greg could no longer focus on anything other than the pain.  It felt like an eternity to him.  His world became never ending waves of pain.  He screamed as loud as his raw throat would let him and cried.  Even if he were able, he wouldn’t have bothered screaming for help.  He knew no one would come.  He vaguely wondered how long he’s been in this room.  It felt like a life time and a half.  At some point Greg had noticed all the new blood that covered his body and the floor and came to the realization that was going to die in here.  He prayed that his child would survive to takes its’ first breath.

He moved into a kneeling position, holding his body up with his arms.  With each contraction he could feel the body of his child slowly forcing its way out from between his spread legs.  With a last grasp at sanity, he began to push with each contraction.  He rolled over onto his back and felt the baby’s head crowning.  He curled up and continued to push and the child’s head was out.  His half focused mind registered that the infant was almost out.  He gave a couple more hard pushes and the child slipped from his body.  He collapsed flat onto his back, breathing heavily.  He stared at the ceiling as the first rays of sunlight shone directly through the high windows.

After a few moments he pulled himself into a half sitting position.  With bloody hands he gently lifted the squirming infant, a boy, onto his chest and lay back down.  The baby boy began to cough and fluids from when he was inside the womb leaked from his tiny mouth, allowing his airway to clear as he took his first real breaths.  As the infant started to fuss Greg remembered from his research that the afterbirth must be delivered or he’ll die.  He gently placed his son on the floor beside him and took care of expelling the afterbirth.

Once that was accomplished he lifted the squealing infant back onto his chest.  He gently rubbed the tiny boy’s back and the cries decreased.  He studied the child.  His little features were lean, like his own.  He had a tuft of dark brown hair, which he could have gotten from either parent.  Greg carefully inspected each of his son’s tiny fingers and toes.  There was just one concern Greg had left and when the infant opened his eyes, he’d nearly cried.

“Nick’s eyes,” he’d breathed and relaxed as violet eyes met brown.  His son had Nick’s eyes, not his own.  It was a Natural and would be accepted in this world.  Tears of relief trailed to the floor.  He began to feel the adrenaline that kicked in over the worry of his son begin to dissipate and he suddenly felt exhausted.

\- - -

The bolts on the door clank loudly as they are unlocked.  The door opens and the Examiner enters the room.  Greg tries to protest as his son is removed from his arms but the difficult birth and continued blood loss has weakened him to the point he can scarcely make a sound.  He lies on the cold stone floor as his blood continues to drain from his body.

“Child is human,” he hears the Examiner’s strangely echoing voice say as the edges of his vision dims.  The last thing he hears is the squealing cries of his son.

\- 30 -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter probably has the only hard swear word in the story (so far).


	9. Carrier Children

Nick yawned as he dragged his feet through the door.  He’d just come off of a double shift and had to get at least a few hours sleep before the start of his next shift.  He wandered into his bedroom and tossed his keys, wallet, and watch on the dresser beside the old silver-studded wristband.  He dropped his jacket onto the floor and kicked off his shoes before pulling a clean pair of boxers and a beater top (1) out of the dresser and setting them on the bed before tiredly making his way to the bathroom, quickly grabbing a clean towel along the way.

He sighed as the shower spray began to wash away the tension he’d built up over his most recent case.  Another Carrier pet had been slaughtered.  He snorts derisively. _‘Slaughtered,’_ he thinks. _‘Like animals…’_ His opinions of those who mistreat Carriers due to the fact that they’re born Carriers had dropped to below nothing since Greg had been taken. _‘Stolen, more like.’_ He rinsed the soap from his skin and exited the shower.  He’s surprised Grissom still lets him work cases where Carriers are involved.  Since Greg’s disappearance Nick had become borderline hostile at best with the suspects.  Even the cops are now afraid to cross him when he’s on a case dealing with a dead Carrier.  He knew the team was worried about him.  In the last seven and a half months he’d become a darker person.  He didn’t smile or laugh anymore.  He didn’t react to many things and when he did it was usually explosive.

As he stood in front of the bathroom mirror with the towel wrapped around his waist he raised a hand to wipe away the condensation.  It almost surprises him when he does not recognize the face that’s looking back at him.  The man he’s starting at looks hollow, his eyes showing little more than a tired, almost haunted look.  He looks older than Nick and his lips are set in a permanent frown.  Nick cringed and looked away.  He padded through to his bedroom and dressed in the clothes he took out.

As he sits on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands, he laments about what went wrong.  He didn’t get far before a sharp knock sounds on his front door.  His brow furrowed and he stood, not being able to think of who would be at his door now.  Opening his apartment door he is met with three men dressed in pristine black suits.  One man flashed his badge and Nick noted that these men were Kingsmen.

“Can I help you?” Nick scowled.

“We’re just making a delivery,” the second man mildly explained as he holds out a clipboard for Nick to sign before handing Nick a thick manila envelope.  The third man stepped forward a placed something on the floor at Nick’s feet.

“Good day, Sir,” the man nodded his head and the three leave.  Nick blinked after them before turning to the object at his feet.  It looked like a basket with a blanket over it.  Something is obviously underneath the blanket and he gently lifted it by the handle and took it inside, locking the door behind him.  He took it to his bedroom and set it on the bed, staring at it.  He’s a bit startled when the blanket begins to move.  Warily he reached out and pulled the blanket back, dropping it in shock when he sees two little brown eyes staring back at him.  _His_ eyes, he was sure of it.  He stared at the tiny infant for a long while and the infant stared back.  He didn’t realize he was crying until a tear splashed onto his bare leg.  He reached a hand out and stroked the child’s tiny cheek with one finger.  He turned his attention away from his son and focused it on the envelope in his hands.  Inside are several documents and letter.  He removed the letter and opened it.

 _To Mr. Nicholas Brian Stokes,_

 _We are happy to inform you of the birth of your Natural child.  He was born on November 16 th, 2001 at 7:46 am. Enclosed with this letter is the paternity test confirming his Carrier’s claim.  Also enclosed is the birth certificate registration form and your son’s medical form with all vitals filled in.  You are required to complete these forms and send them to the required destination in the pre-addressed envelope included._

 _With regards to your son’s Carrier, I am required to inform you that it died during the birthing and I apologise for the inconvenience of relaying this information._

 _Best wishes to you and your son,_

 _Sincerely,  
Bernard Rhys, Department Head  
Carrier Control Office  
Washington, DC_

\- - -

Nick sat in the waiting room of the hospital awaiting news on his two-day-old son.  Being the only boy in a group of seven he’d realized that his child had been born too soon.  Not knowing completely what to do he’d called the only one he could think of with any kind of experience with this sort of thing: Catherine.  She sat in the chair beside him reading a magazine.

“I really appreciate you being here, Cath,” Nick said as the fiddled with the envelope.

“Don’t worry about it, Nicky,” she grinned.  Nick was so distracted with making sure his and Greg’s child was safe that she was surprised he’d even thought to call her.  She’d taken it upon herself to inform the rest of the team once they’d reached the hospital.  Like Catherine, Sara had only been mildly surprised.  Warrick and Gil seemed to have been expecting it.  Nick had been placed on an emergency paternity leave by Grissom as soon as Catherine explained the situation and Gil had also allowed Catherine the shift off to keep Nick company but was on call in case she was needed.

Nick reopened the envelope and pulled out the forms.  The only things he needed to do were fill in his son’s name and sign his own.  He scanned the forms, taking in the information.  Under “Carrier Parent” was written the name: Gregory Hojem Sanders.  Greg’s signature was dated months prior, judging by the date it had been filled out shortly after he’d arrived wherever he was.  He printed in his own name under “Natural Parent” and signed the forms.  Now he just had to name their son.

He stared at the papers thinking.  One of his sisters had given birth to a baby when they’d been dating for a month and an half.  They’d had a conversation about what they’d like to name their kids, if they’d ever been able to have any. _“Theo,”_ he heard Greg’s voice echo in his head.  Taking a shaky breath he printed in the name Theo Hojem Stokes.

\- - -

“Hey, I heard about Greg,” Hodges said as Warrick and Sara entered the Trace Lab.  The CSI’s looked at him in shock.

“I’m not even going to ask,” Sara commented.  It shocked people all the things Hodges was aware of.

“Good, ‘cause I wouldn’t tell you even if you did,” Hodges replied as he took the samples. “So, do you think it’s true?”

“Think what’s true?” Warrick asked.

“Or do you think it’s just the same regurgitated crap they fed our fathers?” Warrick, who’d been in the process of leaving, stopped short.  He turned back to the Trace Tech and sighed, taking a seat on one of the stools.  Frowning, Sara followed suit.

“I dunno man,” he said rubbing his face with his hands. “I remember the stories my Grams use to tell me about my parents, and the pictures she’d show me of them.” Hodges also took a seat, listening. “My father, Marcus, ran a convenience store and he fell in love with one of his male employees, Julius Noble. Turns out Julius was a Carrier. It shocked my father at first but when he found out his lover was pregnant with me it didn’t matter any more.”

“What happened to them?” Sara asked softly.

“My father hid Julius in his home for four months until the Kingsmen came and took him away.  My father searched for him and me, but wasn’t any more successful than Nick.  Then one day Kingsmen showed up at my father’s door with a newborn baby, just a few days old. They handed me over to my father with a letter saying Julius had died giving birth to me.”

“Same thing happened to my father,” Hodges nodded. “Only it was a co-worker at the bank he worked at named Cale.”

“My father was shot in a robbery when I was five so I was raised by my Grams,” Warrick continued after a while. “When I was nineteen, I was on a break from college with a few of my friends up in New York and I wandered off on my own. Ended up getting lost…”

 **_flashback_ **

Nineteen-year-old Warrick was walking aimlessly through the streets of New York.  He knew he shouldn’t have taken that left turn.  He continued walking in the direction he was going, ignoring most of the people he came across.  A young man with glasses close to his age was sweeping off the front of a shop as he passed.  Warrick noticed the serial number on the man’s left forearm and the earring in his right upper ear.  He also wore the grey collar that was fast becoming popular for Masters who used their Carrier slaves as unpaid employees in their shops.  The shopkeeper came outside as Warrick walked by. “Danny, when you’re finished with that I need you to re-stock the shelves…” (2)(3)(4)

Warrick’s mind wandered.  He was walking past a diner when he glanced in the alleyway.  A man was throwing out the trash, a Carrier as noted by the grey collar, earring, and the serial number on his arm.  The Carrier happened to glance up at the same time Warrick glanced down the alleyway.  Warrick slowed to a stop as the older man’s expression changed to one of shocked recognition.  Warrick tilted his head and looked closer at the man, he looked so familiar but he couldn’t place him.  He knew this person was someone important, but he just couldn’t remember why.

“Marcus?” the man asked breathlessly.  Warrick blinked and after a moment realized where he’d seen the man before.  In the pictures his Grams always showed him when she was telling him stories about his parents. It was Julius.

“No, I’m Warrick,” Warrick responded, feeling tears sting his eyes. “Marcus’ son.” The man looked like he wanted to cry too. “Julius?” Warrick breathed and walked towards the man, a tear escaped the older man’s eyes.

“My son.” In the alleyway, hidden from the view of the street the two men embraced, tears falling from their eyes.

“I thought you were dead,” Warrick rasped.

“I thought I’d never get to see you again,” Julius choked out. “My son, my baby boy.”

 **_end flashback_ **

“He was still alive?” Sara asked in amazement.

“Yeah,” Warrick replied. “I didn’t talk with him long. He didn’t want me getting into trouble with the Kingsmen because of him and chased me off. I had a Polaroid camera in my backpack so before I left I took some pictures of us.” He pulled out his wallet and extracted an old photograph.

“This is him?” Sara asked as she took it.  She studied it before letting Hodges look at it. “Looks like you a bit, same jaw line and eye shape.”

“Do you know if he’s still there?” Hodges asked.

“I tried to find him again a few years ago but the diner had shut down. I haven’t been able to find out anything.”

“That should mean he’s still alive somewhere.”

“How are you sure?” Sara asked.

“The easiest thing to find is usually the database listing all the Carriers who died,” Hodges replied. “Of course, you still need to do some intensive digging, but you’ll eventually find it.”

“How do you know that?”

“Cale, my Carrier, didn’t die in childbirth either,” he explained. “He was sold to a wealthy businessman somewhere in Delaware as a pet a few years after I was born and was killed by his Master when I was about four.”

“My Carrier was a slave in my father’s household,” Sara said. “He gave birth to both my brother and me. My father was good with the two of us but with Shannon, my Carrier, he was violent. One day Shannon just couldn’t take the beatings any more and fought back, killing my father.” There was a long pause. “I don’t know what happened to him. My brother and I were carted off and placed in a foster home. I never saw Shannon again.” The three heard a sniff at the door and turned to see Wendy Simms, the new DNA Tech (a woman named Mia Dickerson had replaced Greg but decided this lab wasn’t working out for her and transferred the previous month).

“I’m sorry,” she said, unsure herself of whether she was referring to the tragic stories or the fact that she’d overheard them.

“It’s fine,” Hodges said and offered her a seat beside him.  Sara and Warrick looked at him questioningly. “It helps to share,” he said to her, ignoring the CSI’s.  She was silent for a moment before looking up at Warrick and Sara.

“I know I shouldn’t have been listening, but it’s a bit nice to know that there are others a bit like me,” she said, smiling sadly.

“A bit?” Sara asked, not understanding.  Wendy sighed and looked at the table.

“I’ve been told that I am a special case when it comes to Carrier “offspring”,” she began. “My Carrier was a slave in the household of a widowed wealthy surgeon. As you know, when a Carrier has been admitted into a Carrier House, he is forced to undergo a vasectomy.”

“They don’t want them breeding with women,” Warrick nodded.

“Or each other,” Wendy commented.  Sara and Warrick looked a bit shocked – though it was from the fact that the thought of Carriers having children with other Carriers hadn’t crossed their minds before.

“I can’t believe I never considered that before,” Sara spoke in a tone that said she was amazed at her own stupidity.

“It’s not really something anyone would think of. I mean, we’re all raised to know that the only way Carriers have children is if they carry the child of a Natural male,” Wendy explained. “My Carrier’s Master was not my father. His Master had a son his age and this son had a friend who turned out to be a Stray.

“The Stray became attracted to my Carrier and one night while my Carrier’s Master was on a business trip he forced himself on my Carrier. The Master was furious when he found out, after I was born, that I wasn’t his. He quickly found out who was and demanded a paternity test. The Stray refused and that brought out questions.”

“He knew they’d find out he was a Carrier by his DNA,” Sara commented.  Wendy nodded.

“There’s a Carrier gene that was discovered in the same decade we were all born,” Hodges confirmed.

“In the end he had to do the test and when it was found that he was my true father he was punished gravely. I never knew exactly what they did to him, my Carrier wouldn’t tell me. I just know he didn’t live through it.”

“It must have boggled their minds when you were born,” Warrick commented. “At that point in time who would have thought that two Carriers could have a Natural female?”

“Even though my Carrier’s Master was not my father, he raised me as his daughter. He thought I was special and wouldn’t turn me away.”

“You are special,” Hodges commented as he stood up to start analysing the trace samples Sara and Warrick had brought in. __

\- 30 -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Footnotes:  
> (1) beater top – I like this term better than “wife beater”. No negative connotations.  
> (2) Hmm… Warrick’s in New York and the guy’s named Danny… I wonder who that could be?  
> (3) I believe I said in the prologue that Carriers didn’t have jobs – they don’t. Danny and Julius aren’t paid, their Masters own the shops.  
> (4) I made up the new collar colour due to this chapter – as I outlined in this chapter, Grey means the Carrier’s Master is the owner of the shop (they still work for their Master, just not in a private home).


	10. Healing

Nick stood next to the incubator that held his tiny son.  The little boy had been six weeks early and the hospital preferred to keep him for at least four weeks.  He’d almost cried when he’d finally been allowed to see his child.  The doctor assured him that the incubator was merely a precaution for the next couple of days.  Placing his hand on the clear walls of the box he watched his son sleep.

\- - -

“Nicky, wake up.” Nick felt someone shaking him.  He groggily opened his eyes and a familiar strawberry blonde and brunette came into focus.  He frowned and sat up stiffly.  Looking around as his mind woke up he began to remember what was going on.  He’d fallen asleep in a chair beside the incubator that held his son.  He stood up and groaned as his muscles protested.

“What time is it?” he asked as he stretched, his eyes immediately falling on his baby boy.

“About 7:30 am,” Sara answered.

“Did you sleep in that chair all night?” Catherine asked.  Nick nodded.

“The nurse tried to kick me out but I refused to leave. His doctor let me stay.”

“He’s beautiful Nick,” Sara commented.  Nick didn’t turn away from the baby as he responded to her observation.

“He looks like Greg. His eyes are the only things he got from me.”

“Oh, we’ll see about that,” Catherine said. “We still don’t know what his personality’s like.”

“What’s his name?” Sara asked.

“Theo,” Nick said as the doctor, a woman in her forties, came into the room followed by a nurse.

“Mr. Stokes, it’s time to feed you son, would you like me to show you how to do it?”

“Please.” The doctor opened the incubator and with the care that came with experience she gently lifted Theo into her arms.

“If you would take a seat in the rocking chair,” she indicated the object in question.  Nick did so and the doctor placed baby Theo securely in his father’s arms, making sure Nick was supporting the tiny body properly.  The nurse came forward with a small bottle and showed Nick how to hold it so the baby wouldn’t take in too air much with the formulae.  As the two female CSI’s surveyed the man feeding his child, they witnessed the upward turn of his lips.  As Nick Stokes watched his son he gave his first smile since the night the little boy was conceived.

\- - -

“How is he Catherine?” Gil asked when she entered his office before the start of shift.

“Which one?” Catherine asked, tilting her head to one side.

“Both, I guess,” Gil responded, removing his glasses.

“The baby is fine, doctor says he’s healthy for the most part, a little undernourished and small but that will change for the better now he’s here with Nick,” she replied. “I hate to think of the shape Greg was in when he gave birth to that child. We’re both aware of what the standard of living in one of those Houses is like.” She paused and mused sadly. “I think Nicky’s going to be alright,” she spoke softly. “I was unsure if he’d ever truly recover from the loss of Greg all those months ago.”

“I’m sure he’ll be alright, eventually,” Gil said. “He’s got something to live for now, someone who depends on him.” The older man sighed. “He’ll pull through. His heart may not heal completely, but it will mend.”

“Do you think it’s true?”

“Do I think what’s true?”

“Do you think what they said happened to Greg… do you think it happened?” Catherine asked apprehensively.  It was plain in her eyes that she still clung onto some sort of hope that they may one day see the former lab tech again.

“I don’t know. Warrick talked to me earlier. What he said made me wonder.”

“Yeah, Sara and I talked about it on the drive to the hospital. Do they always say the same thing?” she asked.

“You mean, do they always tell the father that the Carrier died?” Catherine nodded. “From what I understand, yes they do. Brass was able to find out that approximately sixty percent of all Carriers who give birth in a Carrier House actually die in childbirth, yet every Carrier birth is reported unofficially as being fatal to the Carrier parent.”

“Was he able to find out how many of the Carriers who give birth in the Carrier Houses are black-collar?”

“According to his sources, ninety percent tend to be black-collar,” Gil explained. “The remaining ten percent are various other colours. Since abortion in general is costly the Houses allow the Carriers to either carry to term or miscarry.”

“What are the chances that Greg was one of the forty percent who survived?”

“That I can’t tell you, but I’ve been researching a bit into the Carriers that deliver in those Houses.”

“So what can you tell me?” Catherine asked wryly.

“Of the Carriers who survive the delivery, eighty-five percent experience selective amnesia. For a total of thirty percent the amnesia is permanent.”

“Selective amnesia?”

“From what has been reported, the Carrier’s mind blocks all memories pertaining to his child – everything from conceiving to the pregnancy to the birth itself.  In some cases they’ve been observed to block out or even alter memories of the man who fathered their child.” He raised an eyebrow when she picked up a calculator but did not comment.

“I know I shouldn’t be figuring this out, but he’s got a six percent chance of having survived giving birth with all his memories intact.” Gil continued to stare at her with one eyebrow raised.

\- - -

In the month that baby Theo had been in the hospital Nick, with the help of his friends, had been able to secure a small house and move all his belongings into it.  He’d set up one of the four bedrooms as a nursery.  Compared to the rest of the house it was the only one that was fully complete.  The rest of the house had been painted but most of his belongings were still packed in boxes or tucked away in the corners of rooms.

Nick gently held his son in his arms as he sat in the rocking chair of the nursery.  While his son had grown since arriving, he was still small.  Like he’d done the evening his son arrived, and each day in the hospital, Nick began the little ritual of examining his child’s tiny fingers and toes.  It was like he was trying to permanently etch his son in his mind, though even after the first night no one could have wiped the image of his child from his memory.  Little Theo looked so much like Greg that it made Nick’s heart glow with happiness and break all at the same time.

Nick glanced up at the picture that hung on the wall of the nursery, above Theo’s cradle.  It was of Nick and Greg at the last New Year’s Eve staff party, about two and a half months before the young tech had been taken.  Greg was dressed in a crazy outfit – crazy by most people’s standards.  Nick remembered opening his apartment door to the image of a spiky-haired Greg wearing a black red-glitter sleeveless top with a high collar, black dress-like running shoes, and of all things a leather miniskirt.  Dangling from one of his hands was a bag from a clothing store Nick had never heard of in all his years in Vegas.  All Greg had said was “it was the last one and it was in your size” and Nick found himself dressed in those form fitting jeans Greg liked so much, black leather riding chaps that almost looked like they’d been purchase in a fetish shop (courtesy of Greg) and black sleeveless top with shiny deep green threaded through it (also courtesy of Greg).  The two had been a sight to behold.  His friends questioned him about having that particular photograph in the nursery, but Nick argued that this picture displayed the most defining characteristics of what had made Greg, well, Greg.

He’d made the decision that his son was going to grow up knowing the man behind the Carrier, not focusing on the fact that Greg had been a Carrier.  He gazed at the image of his own arm wrapped around Greg’s waist, the two of them smiling like the world spun just for them.  He glanced down at the sleeping infant then looked back up at the picture. “God, Greg, I wish you were here. He’s so beautiful, he looks just like you. I wish I could see you hold him, that we could watch him grow together.” A tear escaped his eye as he slowly allowed the emotions that had been building since Greg disappeared to come to the surface.  He stood and gently placed Theo in the cradle.  When he made it to his room, he collapsed on the bed and sobbed. “I love you Greg.”

\- 30 -


	11. Seven

“Daddy, where going?” Three-year-old Theo Hojem Stokes asked his father as Nick was packing a couple suitcases.

“We’re going to Texas to visit Grandma and Grandpa, Jemy,” Nick explained using the nick name only he called his son (1).  The three-year-old’s eyes got wide.  The young boy had never left Las Vegas since he’d come into Nick’s care, and in the nearly four years he’d been alive he still hadn’t met any of Nick’s family.  His parents had known of his sexual preference for years and made it known that they were disappointed in him.  They had long since resigned themselves to the fact that they’d never have grandchildren from him.  When they found out about Theo and his parentage they expressed no wish to see the boy.  But after Nick was rescued from being buried alive in a Plexiglas coffin they were willing to allow him and his son to stay with them while Nick recovered.

It had been over a month since Nick had been in that box and he was still covered in mostly healed bug bites.  The entire time he was underground there were two people constantly in his thoughts: his lost love and their son.  The pain he still felt from Greg’s… disappearance – his heart still refused to believe the man was dead – was so strong that he’d almost pulled the trigger of the gun he held pressed under his chin.  But his son immediately pushed his way into the forefront of Nick’s thoughts and he couldn’t.  There was still one more reason to hang on and survive this.  He prayed his son was alright, that someone he trusted was making sure he was cared for.  Now, a month later, he was packing a few bags and taking an extended vacation to spend some time with his parents in Dallas.

\- - -

Nick exited the plane with his son on his hip and the carry-on bag slung over his shoulder.  He went directly to retrieve his luggage and headed out to hail a cab. “Nick,” called a female voice once he’d stepped outside.  He turned to see the fourth of his sisters leaning against her car.

“Madelina,” Nick nodded in greeting as he approached her. “What are you doing here?” he asked as he readjusted his son to his other hip.

“I was sent to pick up you and your… son… and bring you back to Mother and Father’s,” she replied, gesturing to Theo as though she thought him dirty.  Nick glared.

“I’m sure we can find our own way.”

“Don’t be silly,” she scoffed. “Just get in.” It was obvious why she’d been sent, she was the only one of his sisters who had children Theo’s age so was the only one with a car seat he’d fit in. “So,” she said after a half an hour of driving in silence. “How old is… he?”

“He’ll be four in November,” Nick replied coolly.

“Seems kind of scrawny if you ask me,” Madelina commented.

“Well I didn’t,” Nick snapped.  He was seriously considering demanding her to turn the car around and take them back to the airport.  There was a long uncomfortable silence.

“Since you haven’t been home in so long, I may as well let you know Mother and Father got a new Carrier slave.” Nick slowly glanced at her with no emotion and blinked.  He didn’t particularly care about the new slave his parents had purchased. “They’ve had it for just over three years now, purchased it from a Carrier House in Austin. I believe Mother said it was twenty-five at the time.”

“How many they got now?” Nick asked just to stall another silence.  He was worried that any more tension in the car would upset Theo.

“This one would be Seven.” None of the Stokes children were aware of what any of the Carrier’s names were – and possibly even their parents.  The Carriers were all referred to by numbers arranged in the order they were purchased.  One and Two were both yellow-collar (childcare slaves) and had a hand in raising all seven of the Stokes children; Three and Five were orange-collar: the housekeeping slaves; Four was a dual green/blue-collar and took care of the gardening and maintenance; and Six was a red-collar, the kitchen slave.  Five was the youngest slave at age twenty-five this year, Nick remembered – he’d been purchased by the elder Stokes at age thirteen, a rare occurrence.

“What kind is it?”

“It _was_ a black-collar when they purchased it, but it had red-collar training so they gave it a black collar with red on it in some sort of design Father thought was interesting,” Madelina explained as though the whole subject bored her. “It’s about time Six had some help, it’s services have been less than par from the beginning.” Nick looked out the window and rolled his eyes, taking in the scenery he hadn’t seen since he moved to Vegas over eight years prior.

\- - -

“Nicholas, darling, it’s good to see you,” Nick’s mother, Jillian Stokes, greeted her only son in a tone that didn’t sound very enthusiastic.

“Mother,” Nick greeted as he removed his son from the car.

“And who is this?”

“This is my son Theo,” he answered as he removed his luggage from his sister’s car without putting his son down.

“Leave those, Nicholas, I’ll send one of the Carriers out to deal with the baggage. It’s what they’re there for,” Jillian said and walked back into the house.  Five minutes later a tall Carrier with medium length brown hair and a lean build exited the home and picked up the luggage before walking back in.  Nick followed, knowing the Carrier would take him to his room without speaking.  He noted the black collar with red tribal designs.  They reached the room and the Carrier began to unpack Nick’s things.

“You don’t have to do that,” Nick said as he set Theo on the floor. “I have no problem doing it myself.” Seven didn’t reply, just continued to do was he was doing.  Nick reached forward and gently grabbed one of the Carrier’s wrists.  The Carrier tensed in response.

“Please, sir,” Seven choked out, trembling as he stared down at the floor.  Nick turned the Carrier to face him and lifted his chin.

“Don’t be afraid to look at me,” Nick said and the Carrier’s empty gaze slowly rose to meet his.  Nick noticed the violet eyes widen slightly as an emotion crossed them before the emotion quickly passed and the Carrier’s eyes dimmed and went blank once more.  The Carrier’s eyes looked vaguely familiar, as though he’d seen them somewhere before.  But that didn’t really surprise him.  All the Carriers in the cases he’d worked tended to have similar looking eyes – and all were the exact same shade of violet.

“Please, sir,” Seven pled in a whisper. “Forgive me, I must return to the kitchen.” Nick released the man and he fled.

\- - -

Seven had been in the Stokes household for over three years.  He remembered little of his life in the Carrier House.  His collar was black, meaning that he’d been pregnant when admitted into his first Carrier House, which meant he had been a Stray.  But he couldn’t remember any of it.  He couldn’t remember being pregnant, or if he’d carried long enough to give birth.  He couldn’t fathom who the father of that child could have been.  He wasn’t even sure if he himself had a name.

But this new Stokes… when he’d touched Seven, looked into his eyes… Seven had seen flashes of memories… at least he thought they might be memories.  There were two.  The first had been a tender caress on his skin, pleasing.  The second, however, had been pain, excruciating pain with the vision of a setting sun…

He shook his head and stood up straight from the wall he’d leaned against.  He quickly and quietly made his way back to the kitchen before the Master or Mistress found him.

\- 30 -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Footnotes:  
> (1) Jemy – nick name derived from Hojem, pronounced like Jamie but with an “e” sound where the “a” should be.


	12. Differential Identity

Nick had been in Dallas for about a week and already thought through and discarded three escape plans – he hoped to slip out of the house unnoticed and fly home, but with a three-year-old it wasn’t going to be as easy as it had when he was in college.  Home.  Dallas use to be home, but since the falling out he’d had with his family around the time he’d started college it hadn’t.  Las Vegas eventually became his home, and for four months out of all those years his heart found home with Greg (maybe even as long as Greg had been in Vegas).  In a way, his heart still did.

Nick was sitting on edge of the double bed in his childhood room, his head in his hands as his elbows rested on his knees.  His son lay curled up in the center of the large bed – Nick was afraid he’d roll off.  He knew coming back here would be hard, but he still hadn’t been prepared for the covert berating (and not so veiled comments) he constantly received from everyone: his parents, his sisters, his brothers-in-law, even his older nieces and nephews.  They constantly made references to the fact that they believed homosexuals little better than Carriers and that children from a union with a Carrier were even lower.  He let out a sighing breath, rubbing his face with his hands and slowly stood trying not to jostle the mattress too much and wake Theo.  It was still very early in the night, almost midnight, and the house had stopped moving hours ago.

Dressed in pyjama pants and a t-shirt he padded barefoot down to the kitchen, praying none of the Stokes would wake.  He didn’t want to spend any more time than necessary with his so-called family as he planned the easiest way to leave without his mother insisting he stay out of spite.  He stopped at the kitchen door, watching as the current occupant concentrated on kneading the dough in front of them.  He felt a small smile tug at the corner of his mouth. “You’re up late,” he commented softly.  He occupant looked up sharply then blushed and turned back to the dough.

“I usually ready the dough for biscuits in the morning when the Master’s entire family will be present,” Seven answered just as softly.  Nick nodded and entered the room, sitting on one of the stools and watching the Carrier’s floury hands work the dough. “Was there something you needed, sir?”

“No, I’m just trying to enjoy being awake without the rest of them,” Nick said and Seven nodded in understanding.  After a while Nick stood and rifled through the cupboards before locating the liquor cabinet and extracting a new bottle of Jack Daniels and cracking it open.  The two remained silent as Seven set the dough he was kneading aside to rise before beginning another batch.  Nick was content to just sit there drinking.  After a while he began to notice things about Seven.  Small things, like the way his eyes would narrow and focus in concentration, or the curve of his neck beneath the collar.  He finished and set the dough aside to rise before cleaning up.  Nick stood, leaving his mostly empty bottle on the counter and, as smoothly as possible in his surprisingly drunken state (he hadn’t realized how much he’d had to drink, since Theo had come into his life being a single father hadn’t left him time for even the casual drinks he’d enjoyed before).  He slipped behind Seven as the sink drained and wrapped his arms around the Carrier’s waist, pulling their bodies flush.

“Sir?” Seven choked.  Nick turned the Carrier around to face him, pinning him between Nick’s body and the counter.

“Call me Nick,” he said and attached the younger man’s mouth with his own. _‘Nick,’_ Seven’s mind played and he felt a surge of emotions that he’d long forgotten but couldn’t remember the origin of as the feel of Nick’s skin on his own excited his nerves.  Their clothing created a haphazard trail from the sink to the dining room table, the last thing to be cast aside being the black and red collar that identified the slave.  Using olive oil provided by the kitchen as lubricant, Nick carefully prepared Greg before entering him.  Greg gasped, moaning Nick’s name as he dragged his nails down the older man’s back, wrapping his legs around Nick’s as the Texan thrust into him.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Nick uttered the exact same phrase he had over four years ago and clearer memories flooded Greg’s mind.  Strangely the other occupants of the rather large house didn’t stir as the half-drunken cries of passion echoed from the dining room.

“Christ, Nick,” Greg panted and captured his lover’s lips, moaning at the feeling of the older man moving inside him.  Their gazes locked. “I love you,” he breathed.

“I love you Greg,” Nick replied before his mind became lost in pleasure his actions created, moaning into his younger lover’s lips as he came.

\- - -

Seven awoke with a start.  He sat up in his little cot, his muscles surprisingly sore.  He yawned and tried to remember what he’d done the previous day to make him ache like that.  He had to admit that it wasn’t all that displeasing – his addled mind found some odd satisfaction.  As he stretched, he was a bit startled to feel the smile on his lips.  He shook his head and tried to remember.  He stood and dressed before making his way to the kitchens where Six (the older kitchen Carrier slave) had begun baking the biscuits with the dough Seven’d prepared the night before…  Seven blinked and glanced around the kitchen, finding a mostly empty bottle of Jack Daniels on the counter top.  He picked it up and placed it in the liquor cabinet where it belonged.

“I think one of the Stokes had a rather large nightcap last night,” Six commented with a grin.

“Must have been that young one,” Four (the gardening and maintenance Carrier slave) commented as he entered the room with a ladder.  One of the ceiling lights had burnt out that morning.

“You mean _Nick_?” Five, the younger housekeeping Carrier slave, said as he entered the room with a grin.  The youngest Carrier grabbed a small bite to eat from the Carrier’s fridge, cheese which he melted on toast.

“Is that his name?” Six mused and Five nodded.

“That’s what One and Two are saying, of course they would know, I mean they have been here the longest.” Seven stood next to the liquor cabinet staring dumbly at the wall.

“Hmm, looks like I’ll have to come back later to fix this one, need to buy more of this type of bulb,” Four said from the top of the ladder where he had removed the light fixture’s glass cover. “What’s up, Sev?” he asked, looking down.

“Huh? Nothing,” Seven responded before picking up the breakfast plates and taking them into the dining room.  He set the stack down and glanced up to find a stray bottle of olive oil and a foreign substance smeared a bit on the otherwise pristine table top.  Blushing as most of the memories from last night re-entered his mind (everything excluding the part where “Greg” had completely taken over control from “Seven”)(1).  Picking up the bottle he strode back into the kitchen after looking in one of the mirrors in the dining room to ensure his face was no longer red. “Found this in the dining room,” he said as he held up the bottle.  The other three looked at it before breaking out laughing.

“Oh my God,” Six said as he snatched the bottle and examined before cleaning it off to ensure there was no _foreign substances_ on it.

“I’m guessing there’s a little mess I should clean up before the Master sees, right?” Five snickered and Seven nodded with a snort before following Five back into the dining room with the rest of the breakfast dishes.  Five couldn’t quit laughing as he polished the dining table.  Once he chuckled his way back into the kitchen Seven set the large table, not caring if his face was blushing once more.

\- 30 -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Footnotes:  
> (1) Just so everyone’s clear, Greg developed a kind of Differential Identity Disorder (DID) after the birth of his son (brought on by a combination of the traumatic birth and depression over never seeing his son or Nick again); “Greg” being the dominant personality that is aware of everything, but the subjugated personality of “Seven” is in control most of the time – like a security measure keeping the overall person sane; The existence of multiple personalities within an individual personality is diagnosed as DID in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM). Prior to the publication of the DSM-IV, it was termed multiple personality disorder (MPD). Neither term (dissociative identity or multiple personality) should be confused with schizophrenia, although the media often incorrectly use the term split personality to describing each.
> 
> A/N: There was a question posed to my by one reader about why Nick wouldn't recognize Greg since he does know what Greg looks like and due to pictures he has of Greg couldn't forget how he looked. This is my answer:
> 
> The way I figured the reason Nick would not recognize Seven as Greg, it has been over four years since they've been face-to-face. Nick is stuck in a place where he still believes Greg is alive somewhere, but is coming to terms with the fact he may actually be dead. He's in his parents home and the odds of Greg being there is so minute that it never registers to him. The last time he saw Greg he looked a certain way and the only time he actually seen Greg as he truly was he was intoxicated so his sober mind wouldn't be able to make to same connection.
> 
> Also the way I see Greg is that after all he's been through – his experiences and the amnesia – have changed the way he is perceived by others. Meaning that everything from the way he holds himself and moves to the expressions on his face and so on, portrays a completely different person from who he was before. Due to the amnesia Greg has forgotten who he himself is and for all intents and purposes is a different person.
> 
> So as it is set up, Seven cannot be recognized as Greg until something changes in a certain way and he literally becomes Greg once again or the conditions change and Nick is able to set aside everything he thinks is true and is able to see who it is in front of him without anything (thoughts or beliefs) to contradict him. Kind of like "the mind sees what it wants to", Nick's mind doesn't want to think it's Greg and get his hopes dashed.


	13. Pain

Nick awoke with an unbelievable hangover.  He groaned and peeked around trying to figure what had awoken him.  Sitting on top of his chest was his grinning three-year-old son. “Daddy, wake up!” Nick groaned again as his son’s loud voice made his head pound even more.  He wondered what had possessed him to get drunk.  The last time he’d been this drunk had been the night the small boy who was now jumping on the mattress was conceived.  Slowly, Nick sat up and massaged his temples.

“I’m awake, Jemy, you can stop jumping now,” Nick said quietly, the sound of his own voice making his head hurt.  Theo jumped off the bed and began dashing around. “Can you please not do that? Daddy has a headache…”

“Wossa headache?” Theo tilted his head to the side inquisitively.

“It means my head hurts,” Nick grinned as he explained and Theo’s mouth made an “o” shape.  Theo then crawled back onto the bed – with Nick’s assistance – and hugged Nick, kissing the side of his head.

“All better!” Nick chuckled.

\- - -

Meals with his family had been tense since his arrival and with a hangover it was even worse.  Not only did he have to sit through his sisters and their husbands bragging about how perfect and “normal” their lives were, what they did the “right” way, and how perfect their children were, he had to do it with a larger than normal pounding headache.

“What’s wrong with you this morning Nick?” Olena, his second oldest sister snapped from across the table.

“Honestly, Nick, it’s as though you don’t _want_ to be here,” Britannia, the fifth sister commented snobbishly.

“Sorry, I’m just a bit under the weather is all,” Nick half grumbled.  He honestly _didn’t_ want to be there, but there was no use saying it.

“Maybe you should have just stayed in bed,” Madelina, the sister who picked him up from the airport stated, the way she said it made it sound like he did nothing but sleep.

“Just because I work Nights-“ Nick started when he was interrupted by his mother.

“I can’t understand how a single man with a baby can afford to work a nightshift,” she said. “Do you even see you’re _child_ at all?” Nick could feel the ball of rage inside him building at the stab.

“I see him plenty,” Nick said in a low voice. “There is nothing wrong with me staying on the nightshift, and there is nothing wrong with the way I’m raising my son,” he snapped and stood. “Why would I need another woman in my life when the ones that are already in it make me want to shoot my brains out with my own gun? And I know that’s what y’all’re getting at.” He turned and strode out of the room to find his son in the smaller dining room where the children ate, supervised by the two eldest Carriers.

\- - -

“Sounds like the young Mr. Stokes is heading home early,” Five announced as he entered the kitchen in search of food an hour before lunch was to be served to the Stokes family.

“He’s only been here a week,” Six commented from where he and Seven were chopping potatoes into fries for deep-frying as the oil heated.

“Yeah, well we all know how the rest of them can be,” Five commented as four young children ran in followed by Two. “He’s just lucky he can escape.”

“Escape what?” Two asked absently as he tried to gather the stray children.

“Uh, nothing,” Five responded innocently.  The three older Carriers disapproved of the way the younger ones gossiped.

“You’re talking about the Master and Mistress again, aren’t you?” Two asked raising an eyebrow.

“Um, not exactly,” Five said bashfully.  And Two rolled his eyes.

“Honesty, you’re worse than women-” Two admonishing came to an abrupt halt when one of the children knocked the ladder that was still in the kitchen and it toppled over, knocking to pan full of hot oil off the stove.  Seven moved quickly to shield one of the children and howled in pain as the hot oil seared the skin on his back through his shirt (1).  Chaos immediately broke loose.

\- - -

Greg blinked his eyes.  He couldn’t focus on what was going on.  His memories and focus was all scattered and incoherent.  The first thing he registered was a searing pain that had exploded on his back.  For a brief second he couldn’t make a sound before he screamed loudly as the pain ripped through the skin in his back and deep into the muscle.  He shuddered, taking in air and trying to calm himself.  He was tightly grasping something to his chest.  He looked down to see a small boy holding tightly onto his arm. “Ar- are you okay?” he choked out.  The little boy looked up at him with eyes that sent his mind reeling back in time. _‘Nick’s eyes.’_

“I otay,” the little boy’s small voice said with a tear in his eye. “You otay?”

“Y-yes,” Greg managed as tears welled up in his eyes. “I’ll be fine.” He held the boy, his own son, to him and rocked the child gently to keep him calm as the chaos around him continued. “It’s alright,” Greg said softly despite the stabbing pain in his back.

“What in God’s name is going on here?” the voice of the Mistress of the house rang loudly through the air.

“Mis-Mistress, there was an, an accident,” Six managed to stutter.

“The ladder, it fell and the pan, the oil,” Two tried to explain as he carried one of the children on his hip and held onto another’s hand, the third hanging onto his pant leg – the one in his arms was crying loudly.

“The oil from the pan almost hit one of the children,” Five continued where the others left off. “But Seven stepped in the way.” As Greg listened to the garbled conversation the memories flooded back to his mind and he recalled everything.  He remembered this morning, last night, four years ago… everything.  He heard footsteps come towards him and his still confused brain stopped him from protesting as his son was ripped from his arms and dragged from the room.  When he heard Theo’s screams from the hallway, he moved to stand up but the pain in his back caused him to fall back to the floor and remain still.  Five slipped a bit as he ran to Greg’s side.

\- - -

Nick had been bullied into accompanying a few of his sisters on a trip down town to pick out some dresses for a wedding one of their cousins were having in a few months.  He’d tried his best to meld into the chair he sat in and remain unnoticed, but that was not to happen.  They insisted on asking him his opinion on _everything_.  Then when he did give his opinion, they voiced why the thought he was wrong.  He couldn’t wait until the afternoon when he and his son would be flying back to Vegas.  He’d had enough after breakfast and phoned the airlines, managing to book an outgoing flight that day at 2:00 PM.

The first thing he heard when he entered his parent’s home at quarter after eleven AM was the screams of his son.  He dropped the bags he’d been carrying and rushed into the living room where his son was crying on the floor beside One, who was trying to comfort him. “What the hell is going on?” he demanded.

“Master Nicholas, forgive me,” One began. “There was an accident in the kitchen, but young Theo luckily remained unharmed.”

“What happened in the kitchen,” Nick asked in a calmer tone as he gently lifted his son into his arms, rubbing the little boys back to calm him as his cries died down.

“Two and I were keeping an eye on all the children when Theo and three of the other younger ones ran off. Two followed them to the kitchen,” One answered.

“Four had left a ladder in there to fix the light and one of the children knocked it over,” Two took over explaining. “Six and Seven were heating oil to cook the lunch meal and the ladder knocked the pan off the stove. It would have burned Theo had Seven not jumped in front of him.”

“Is he alright?” Nick asked, referring to the new Carrier who’d protected his son.

“I don’t know, Sir,” Two answered.  All the Carriers had a greater respect for Nick than any of the other Stokes.  He was the only one who never referred to any of them as “it”. “His back was burned quite badly.”

“Where is he?”

“In the Carrier’s quarters,” Five answered from where he stood in the doorway. “Three says he’ll be alright, but his back will be permanently scarred.”

“ _What_ are you doing in here?” Jillian Stokes’ voice demanded and the young Carrier jumped.

“Forgive me, Mistress,” Five bowed and dashed away to the kitchen where he was still cleaning up the mess.  Jillian turned to her son.

“Don’t give me that look, Nicholas,” she said stiffly. “The boy is obviously fine, though there was some nasty damage to the Carrier but it’ll live. You know, your compassion for their lot is unbecoming a Stokes.” Nick’s eyes narrowed.

“Then consider me no longer a Stokes,” he said in a low voice and headed to the room he was staying in to retrieve his already packed bags.

\- 30 -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Footnotes:  
> (1) I figured since Greg’s back being burned/scarred by the lab explosion in “Play With Fire” has become an important detail in many fiction, I’d come up with a reason for it in this ‘verse.
> 
> Author’s Note: I thought I’d use something traumatic to overcome the DID mixed with his “Carrier” instincts (whether he realizes that’s what happened or not).
> 
> Response to one review inquiring why Nick had to be drunk to recognize Greg: While Nick doest have to be drunk, it's just one of the few times his mind will allow itself to see everything without doubt to contradict him (though I do plan to poke fun at it in the end – you’ll all see what I mean when you get there). And Greg's memories were more triggered by a similar/near exact situation, strong emotions, and the removal of the collar (it was like the collar had controlled which personality was expressed. At the moment it's like he can't be Greg with it on).


	14. Identity

Greg winced as Five re-bandaged the burns on his back.  It was late and the house was silent once more. “I’m almost done,” Five said softly.  When he was finished securing the last bandage he sat back. “There, all done.” Greg rolled from his stomach onto his side. “Are you alright?” Five asked after a moment.  The twenty-eight-year-old gazed at the younger man without responding.  He hadn’t spoken much in the week since Nick left.

“What’s your name?” he asked quietly.

“What?” Five asked, blinking.

“Your name,” Greg repeated. “What is it?”

“Um…” Five looked at a loss for words.  He looked at the floor thinking. “Uh, R-… Riley…” he said softly.  He looked up again, gazing into Greg’s eyes.

“Riley,” Greg said and the younger man nodded.

“What… what’s yours?” Riley asked.

“Greg.”

“No one’s referred to me by my name in twelve years.”

“It’s understandable,” Greg said. “You’ve been here all that time.” Riley grinned slightly.

“May I- May I ask why you were suddenly interested?”

“Last week, when I was burned, something happened to me,” Greg explained. “It was like my mind had been locked for so long. All my memories were hidden away where I couldn’t reach them. But when I was burned, the locks broke, and I remembered everything.”

“What did you remember?” the young man asked, curious.

“My son,” Greg answered.

“So you _did_ have a child?” Riley tilted his head to the side.

“Yes,” Greg nodded. “I gave birth in the Carrier House a few months before I came here. I almost died.”

“The Birthing Effect,” Riley nodded.  The Birthing Effect was what the Carriers called the selective memory loss that tended to occur after a Carrier gave birth, especially in a Carrier House. “I’ve seen Carriers go through it before, but I never witnessed one remember anything.”

“Can I tell you something?” Riley nodded. “I’m pregnant.”

“What?” Riley’s eyes widened. “How? _When_?”

“Last week,” Greg answered. “The mess in the dining room,” Greg continued, blushing.  Riley got a look of comprehension.

“It’s Nick’s, isn’t it?” Greg nodded. “That’s not all, is it?” Greg shook his head.

“My son, Theo.” Riley gasped. “He’s Nick’s as well.”

“I knew he looked so familiar.” The two jumped and looked to the door where the other five Carriers were now entering the room.  It had been One that spoke. “It was just so unlikely that I never made the connection.”

“It must have been why he was so calm with you,” Six commented. “Through all the chaos in the kitchen that day, he was calm when you held him. Until the Mistress dragged him from the room.”

“He didn’t stop crying until Nick came home ten minutes later,” Two said.

“He wouldn’t have known who I was,” Greg countered.

“The bond between a Carrier and his child is different from the bond between a Mother and hers, Sev,” Four explained knowingly.

“They can go their entire lives apart,” Three nodded. “They can happen upon each other one day and _know_.” Greg sighed and let a small smile play on his lips.

“I never thought I’d ever see them again,” Greg said as a tear escaped his eye. “Never in a million years.”

“I know, Greg,” Riley said and took Greg’s hand. “We’re trained to think that way.”

“Greg?” Four looked confused; the other five hadn’t heard that part of the conversation.

“That’s my name,” Greg said looking at the man.

“I remembered mine,” Riley said with a wide grin.

“Let me guess, Small Fry?” Four teased.  Riley glared and the older Carriers chuckled.  Four was a few years older than Greg.  He and Riley bickered and teased constantly and Greg was positive they were attracted to one another.

“It’s Riley,” the younger man said simply.

“I’m Patrick,” Four said and the two smiled softly.

“My name’s Burke,” Six said as Patrick took a seat beside Riley.

“I’m Elwyn,” Three nodded.

“Masos,” Two said.

“And I’m Mali,” One finished, taking Masos’ hand.

“So you’re sure you’re pregnant again?” Elwyn asked.

“Yes,” Greg said. “Both times Nick took me he did so completely. The first resulted in Theo. Considering how Carrier pregnancies work, I don’t see why this time would be any different.” Elwyn nodded.

“What’s going to happen with the Master finds out?” Riley asked, apprehension clear in his voice.  Patrick put a comforting arm around him.

“I don’t know,” Mali answered, shaking his head. “I do know they won’t force you to get an abortion though.”

“For all their money, they’re too cheap,” Masos agreed and Riley snickered.

\- - -

 _“Conniving whore!”_ Judge Stokes shouted as he struck Greg hard across the face, sending him to the floor.  Riley choked back a startled gasp from where he stood in a line with the other Carriers. “I take you into my home and this is how you repay me?” The Stokes had been informed by the physician that checked over their Carriers once every two months that while Carrier Seven’s back was completely healed, he was also pregnant. “Who was stupid enough to breed you?” the Judge demanded. _“Who?”_ Greg stayed silent where he sat on the floor. “Tell me who bred you or I’ll beat that thing out of you myself!” Fear was evident in all seven Carriers eyes at this statement.  Greg’s heart was pounding.  The rest of the Stokes clan – minus Nick and Theo – was standing around the room witnessing the spectacle with looks of disgust.  He was truly terrified that the man standing over him would murder him when he answered. “Well?”

A tear escaped his eye as he answered.  Seconds later, all he saw was black.

\- 30 -


	15. Remembering

“Greg?” Greg heard a tentative voice ask.  He groaned and moved his head, his eyes fluttering open. “Greg?” the voice asked again.

“Hmm?” he asked, or thought he did, his head was spinning and he wasn’t sure of what was going on.  His vision was blurry and he closed his eyes again.  He felt someone running a calming hand through his hair and sighed.

“Greg? Baby, wake up.” His foggy brain stilled at the endearment.  He’d heard it before… somewhere.  But where? “Please?” the voice asked.  He opened his bleary eyes and tried to focus.  He racked his brain to piece together what was going on and closed his eyes once more.  He recalled the discussion between the seven Carriers that night.  Then he remembered the physician’s visit.  He remembered fearing for the month and a half old foetus growing in his womb and the rage in Judge Stokes’ voice.  His eyes snapped open and he shot into a sitting position.  His head hurt and the room spun as someone grabbed his shoulders to steady him. “Whoa there, take it easy. I think you were hit pretty hard, you might have a concussion.” He relaxed and allowed the arms to lower him back to a lying position.

“Daddy?” a little voice asked. “Mummy otay?” Greg heard someone chuckle, he guessed the same person who had spoken to him.

“Mummy hurt his head but I think he’ll be okay.” Greg reopened his eyes slowly and a ceiling came into focus. “Hey, there you are,” the hushed voice said, which Greg noticed had the accent of someone who'd grown up in Texas but lived somewhere else.  There was silence and Greg turned his gaze towards the voice.  He came face to face with a set of brown eyes he’d prayed years ago to get the chance to see just one more time.

“Nick,” Greg breathed.  Tears welled up in the Texan’s eyes. “Am I dead?” The older man chuckled.

“No, you’re not dead.” Nick took one of Greg’s hands in his. “But I thought you were,” he said with a sad voice. “Years ago. A lifetime ago.” A tear escaped his eyes and Greg reached up with his free hand and wiped it away.  Nick took that hand in his as well and looked the younger man in the eyes. “But you’re here. Now. You’re alive,” Nick’s voice cracked.

“I never thought I’d ever see you again,” Greg said softly as tears fell from his eyes as well. “I thought you’d hate me when you did.”

“Why would I ever hate you?” Nick looked confused.

“Because,” Greg choked and looked away. “I’m different.” Nick realized what he meant and pulled the younger man off the couch in Nick’s living room and into his lap, wrapping his arms around him.

“I could _never_ hate you, you hear me? I _don’t_ hate you,” Nick said with complete sincerity. “Greg, baby, I love you.” Greg looked up again.

“You _love_ me?” Nick nodded. “I thought that was the alcohol talking.”

“Alcohol?” Nick frowned.  Greg blushed and looked at the floor.

“I didn’t realize you were you at first,” Greg began. “At your parent’s home. I couldn’t remember you. I couldn’t remember our son. I couldn’t remember my life.” Greg swallowed and closed his eyes. “When they took my baby away, I blocked everything out. I couldn’t even remember my own name. Then that night in Dallas, I was in the kitchen making biscuit dough and you came in. You sat there and watched me, then you went and got a drink. As I was cleaning up, you came up behind me.”

“I remember,” Nick said. “I was a bit strung out and needed to relax. I haven’t really drank much since Theo came along, and I didn’t realize I’d actually drank that much.”

“When you told me your name, I felt the memories that were there,” Greg continued. “They were so close but they were just beyond my reach and I couldn’t remember. It was like my body remembered you when my mind didn’t. Then you removed the collar and I felt “Seven” disappear. For the first time in over three years, Greg was free.” More tears fell from Greg’s eyes and Nick kissed them away. “The next morning, Greg was gone again, locked away in my mind once more. But later, a little before lunch, Theo and some of the others were running around in the kitchen. Burke and I had started cooking lunch and there was a pan of oil heating on the stove. The ladder Patrick had left earlier was still there and one of the children knocked it over. I saw everything like it was in slow motion. I saw where it was headed, and I saw Theo standing there. Without thinking I jumped in front of him and Greg came out once more.”

“I remember walking into the house and hearing him screaming,” Nick said. “I ran to him. He was with one of the older Carriers and wouldn’t stop crying. I picked him up and they told me what happened. They told me what happened to you and I think my heart knew. Somehow it knew who you were. But my mother came in and insulted both me and them. I was so furious with her that I just left.”

“It hurt so much when she tore him from my arms,” Greg remembered. “It hurt more than the oil on my back. But I was too confused and in too much physical pain to put up much of a fight.” He looked up at the couch where he had been laying to see his three-year-old son lying there asleep.

“Everyone tells me how beautiful he is,” Nick commented. “It’s because he looks just like you.” The two sat contently in each other’s arms, Greg’s back pressed to Nick’s chest, and watched their son.

“When he was born, I was so relieved the first time he opened his eyes and they were yours,” Greg leaned back into Nick. “I was lying on the floor of the Birthing Room bleeding as they verified that he was Natural. I was dying and they didn’t care.”

“I want you to tell me everything,” Nick said as he wrapped his arms more securely around Greg, pulling his lover closer. “I want to know everything that happened to you from the moment you left me. I want to understand so that I can help you more.”

“Just being here, with me, is more than enough.”

“Promise me you’ll tell me,” Nick persisted and Greg sighed.

“I promise. I’ll tell you everything, eventually,” Greg relented. “Just don’t expect me to tell it all at once.”

“That’s fine,” Nick said and rested his forehead on the side of Greg’s head.

“I just have one condition,” Greg said after a while.

“Anything.”

“You tell me everything that happened to you since I’ve been gone. Everything, before, during, and after you got Theo.”

“Deal.” Nick spoke again after a few moments. “I searched for you, after they took you. I searched for over a year. Even after they dropped Theo on my doorstep with a letter telling me you’d died in childbirth. It got harder as time wore on and Theo needed more of my attention. I wouldn’t just leave him with a babysitter. Then Ecklie became the Assistant Lab Director and he used my job to stop me from searching any longer. I couldn’t lose my job, not when Theo needed me to take care of him. Before I was forced to stop I searched every Carrier House in Nevada, and Arizona, and California. I even searched Utah and Texas. There’s only one good thing about those places: there aren’t that many since they’re only in major cities, even if each city has several.”

“I had no idea where I was, but I figured I had to be somewhere in the South.”

“Yeah? How’d you figure that?”

“The accents of the customers.”

“It sickened me when I would go on a “viewing” in one of those places,” Nick sighed. “They acted like I was picking out a jacket or a blender. They kept telling me the “qualities” of various Carriers. My sister told me my parents found you in Austin. I searched there but I never found you.”

“How long after I’d been taken were you there?”

“About three and a half months. Why?”

“They don’t show Carriers who have been beaten until their injuries heal completely. When I was three months pregnant I slipped up and broke a rule and they beat me. It was a month before I was included in a viewing again.” Nick wrapped his arms more securely around Greg.  It hurt both of them that they’d been so close to seeing each other and missed the chance.

“Why did they beat you?” Nick asked softly.

“I spoke out of turn.” The two went silent again.  After a while Theo woke up.

“Mummy, you otay now?” he asked as he rubbed his eyes and yawned.  Greg looked at Nick with an eyebrow raised.  Nick chuckled.

“Don’t ask me, he started calling you that on his own. I don’t even know how he knew who you really were.” Greg smiled and turned back to his son.

“Yes sweetie, I’m okay now.” Greg couldn’t stop his smile from widening as the little boy hopped off the couch and curled into his lap.  He felt something inside him that he hadn’t realized was broken heal. “Everything’s alright now, Baby. Everything’s fine.”

\- - -

Later that day Nick had a physician come and check to see if Greg was alright.  Other than some bruising on the side of his head where Judge Stokes had hit him he was perfectly healthy.  His baby was also healthy.

Nick stood leaning in the doorway of his son’s room watching Greg tuck him in.  He smiled at the tender way Greg brushed Theo’s hair from his little forehead and kissed the top of his head.  Greg stood and exited the room before Nick quietly closed the door.

“Is it too forward of me to want you to sleep in the same bed as me?” Nick asked shyly.

“I don’t think so,” Greg said with a grin.  Nick took Greg’s hand and led the younger man to his bedroom.  They stood facing one another beside the bed, Greg shyly looking at the floor.  They both were thinking back to the last time both of them were in Nick’s room.  It had been the apartment then, and they were older now.  But despite all that happened between then and now, they were still aware of how much they were in love with each other.  Nick raised a tender hand and tilted Greg’s chin upwards, Greg’s gaze still firmly on the floor.

“Don’t be afraid to look at me, Greg,” Nick breathed and Greg lifted his violet gaze.

“Please, Nicky,” Greg whispered and leaned into Nick’s touch.  Nick tilted his own head downward and captured Greg’s lips with his own.  They shared a tender kiss that Greg deepened.  Nick ran his hands up Greg’s back, feeling some of the larger scars through the fabric of the younger man’s shirt.  His hands reached the black collar Greg wore and, without breaking the kiss, he removed it.  They ignored it as it clattered softly to the floor.

\- 30 -


	16. Reunited

As Greg’s mind became more aware he found that he was decidedly comfortable in the strange warmth that surrounded him.  He sighed contently and leaned into it without opening his eyes.  Frowning a bit, he felt warm breath on the back of his neck followed by the feeling of lips tenderly pressing against his skin.  He opened his eyes and glanced around, nothing about this room remotely resembling his tiny quarters in the Stokes household.  He studied the objects that lay on the dresser sitting against the far wall: a wallet, a set of keys, an old pair or wire-framed glasses, and an older silver-studded leather wristband.  The last object looked familiar even from this distance.  His gaze moved to the wall above the dresser.  There were some photos displaying a few college sports teams and others of a man and a small child.  He stared at the man’s face and his frown disappeared.  He grinned as the person lying behind him nuzzled into his bare neck.

“Looks like someone’s awake,” Greg commented softly.

“Mornin’ babe,” Nick said quietly as he placed another soft kiss below Greg’s ear.  Greg sighed contently as he turned in Nick’s arms to face the older man.

“Morning yourself,” he smiled lightly, staring into brown eyes that still made him weak at the knees after all these years. “Is this real?” he whispered. “Or am I going to wake up to find this was all just a dream?” Nick traced the side of Greg’s face with a finger.

“Either it’s real or we’re both having the same dream,” Nick answered in the same soft tone, gazing into the violet eyes of his recently found lover. “But I’m sure it’s real.”

“Do we need to get up just yet?”

“No, we still have about another half hour before Theo comes bounding in here,” Nick replied with a smile which Greg returned.

“Hold me Nicky.” Nick gently pulled Greg closer to him so the younger man’s head was resting on his bare chest.  They wrapped their arms around one another and take comfort in being next to one another.  After a few quiet minutes Greg spoke. “What’s going to happen to us?”

“What do you mean?” Nick asked, tracing the scars on Greg’s bare back.

“I don’t even understand why I’m here,” Greg began. “I’m still a registered Carrier. I’m pregnant. And I’m property of your parents.”

“Actually you’re not anymore,” Nick said.  Greg looked up at him questioningly. “They transferred what they called the “Ownership Title” to my name before you were brought to my home.”

“Why?”

“Because of the baby,” Nick answered simply. “Because it’s mine.”

“I thought your father was going to kill me when I told,” Greg said and stared back down at Nick’s chest. “I was so afraid, not for my life but life of the child inside me.” He rolled onto his back and placed a hand on his lower stomach. “I was also afraid they’d call me a liar. I think they assumed I’d planned it.”

“Honestly I think they did too,” Nick said as he placed his own hand over Greg’s. “You were unconscious when they brought you here. My father told me that you’d named me as the father of your child and said you were now my responsibility. They didn’t want anything to do with a Carrier who’s an “active breeder”. After all the documentation was taken care of, I told him you were also the Carrier of my son.”

“What did he do when he heard that?”

“After backhanding me he disowned me.”

“Oh, Nicky, I’m so sorry,” Greg said with tears in his eyes and rolled onto his side facing Nick.

“I’m not,” Nick stated. “I meant what I said yesterday. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Greg sniffed. “I love you so much. I loved you years ago before all this happened, and I still love you now.”

“It’s going to be alright, Greggo,” Nick said as he gathered the smaller man into his arms. “You’ll see. I promise everything is going to be fine.”

“I know it’s just, after all this time, it just seems too good to be true.” Tears escaped Greg’s eyes and Nick tenderly kissed them away. “I’m just waiting for something to go wrong.”

“We’ll get through this, G. We’ll get through this together.” Greg continued to cry into Nick’s shoulder, taking comfort in his lover’s presence.

\- - -

“What if they don’t take this well? What if they-”

“Nothing’s going to go wrong, hon. They’ll be a bit shocked but they’ll be happy.”

“Yes you’ve said that, but what if-” Nick silenced his paranoid lover with a kiss.

“I’ll be right here the whole time. It’ll be alright.” Nick went downstairs to answer the door leaving Greg standing in Theo’s room holding the young boy securely on his hip.  Greg had been with Nick for three weeks and the team was to the point where they refused to be kept in the dark any longer about why Nick was suddenly so happy.  While he had lightened up considerably when Theo came along, since Greg’s arrival he’d been as happy and cheerful as he had been before the younger man’s disappearance – maybe even more so.  So, late this afternoon before shift Nick had invited the whole team over to his house for an early dinner.  While Greg was ecstatic to see them all again he was terrified at the same time.  He’d spent so long being treated as little more than an animal that being treated as a human being was unnerving him a bit.  He was so afraid this turn of good luck would evaporate at any moment.  He felt so insecure that he almost wanted to put his discarded collar back on – Nick refused to allow him to wear it anymore and even gave Greg different earrings to replace the Carrier hoop.

“Mummy, you otay?” Theo asked tilting his head to one side.

“Yes Jemy,” Greg assured the young boy using the name Nick called him. “Everything’s fine, Mummy’s just a little nervous about meeting his old friends again.” He tugged a bit on the end of the long sleeve that covered the serial number on his forearm.

“Is otay Mummy, I love you,” Theo stated as though this took care of everything.  Greg couldn’t help but smile at his son’s innocence.

“I love you too, Jemy,” he said and kissed the top of his son’s head.  Voices filtered up from downstairs as more guests arrived.  He cast one last look at the old photograph that hung in his son’s room, the one of he and Nick at a New Years Eve party about four and a half years ago.  He took a deep breath, running his free hand through his short recently cut hair, and exited the room.

\- - -

The whole team was now here.  Warrick had arrived with his new wife and step-daughter – Catherine formerly-Willows and her daughter Lindsay at roughly the same time as Jim Brass.  Shortly after Sara and Grissom – who were finally engaged – had arrived with none other than the DNA Tech Wendy Simms and the Trace Tech David Hodges (Hodges had finally gotten up the nerve to ask Wendy on a date after dancing around each other for the better part of three years and Wendy was considering taking the field exam to become a CSI).  Over the past four years the two techs had become close friends with the CSI’s, helping them to cope with the loss of their friend and offering sympathetic ears where needed.

“So Nick, what’s the occasion?” Warrick asked as the newest arrivals settled into various chairs in the living room.

“Yeah, it’s been forever since you had us all over here,” Sara observed.

“And what’s got that smile back into your eyes lately?” Catherine asked. “I mean, it’s great to have the old you back, but I’d sure like to meet whoever it is that’s sparked the twinkle back into them.” Nick couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face as his friends immediately started asking questions.

“Okay, okay, everyone calm down,” Nick said cheerily. “I have a bit of an announcement to make and I’m certain it’s going come as a complete shock.”

“So what is it Uncle Nick?” Lindsay asked.  Nick took a deep breath and gazed across the room behind his friends to see Greg descending the stairs with Theo securely in his arms.

“I’m not really sure how to say this but,” he took another deep breath. “I found him. I found Greg.” There was a stunned silence and he never took his eyes of his tiny family standing at the base of the stairs.

“You _found_ him?” Brass asked after a long silence.

“When?” Grissom asked

 _“Where?”_ Catherine choked out.

“Is he alright?” Warrick asked at the same time Sara asked “Can we see him?” Wendy and Hodges both followed Nick’s gaze.  Hodges couldn’t help but feel relieved to see the former Tech standing there and Wendy smiled softly.

“How ‘bout y’all ask him yourself,” Nick said with a smile and walked to where Greg stood staring at the floor and clinging his son to him.  Nick wrapped an arm around Greg’s waist, lifting Greg’s chin with his other hand.  Greg leaned into his touch, shyly meeting his gaze.

“Greg?” Sara asked disbelievingly as she stood and slowly approached. “Is it really you?” Her voice was hushed and she looked like she wanted to cry.  Greg swallowed and turned to meet her gaze.

“Hey Sara,” he said just as softly and grinned timidly and set Theo on the floor.  Both Sara and Catherine choked back sobs as Sara rushed forward and threw her arms around Greg.

“Oh my God, it’s really you,” she cried. “You’re really here.” She pulled back and placed her hands on either side of his head as though she still couldn’t believe he was right in front of her. “You’re really here.” She pulled him back in for another hug before stepping aside and allowing Catherine to do the same.  Over the rest of the afternoon and into the evening Greg relaxed and enjoyed the company of his old friends.  He was surprised at how easily they fell back into their old camaraderie, despite the obvious differences that naturally came with the time that had passed and their individual experiences.

\- 30 -


	17. Status

He’d been home for a month and a half and was now three months pregnant with their second child.  Greg was sitting in the living room watching an episode of a popular crime drama about a shift of CSI’s that he was hooked on as Theo played with his toy cars on the floor.  He flinched as he watched the DNA Tech get blasted through a lab window.  He liked the guy – Eric was his name – but he had to admit one of the CSI’s (George) was kind of hot… not that he’d ever admit that to Nick.  If he did the older man would be walking around with this smug look on his face for being right and Greg just wouldn’t allow that.  He secretly hoped that one day the hot CSI and the lovable Lab Tech would get together eventually – but it looked more likely that the characters William and Jorja would end up together and _that_ didn’t look like it was ever going to happen, but he was also hopeful about Marg and Gary getting together. (1)

He still wore the black collar and Carrier earring from running to the store a few hours earlier, being too lazy at the moment to remove them – despite what Nick said laws were laws.  There was a knock at the door and he dragged himself to his feet and answered it.  There were three men in black suits standing on the porch and Greg stiffened.

“Give this to your Master,” one of the men snapped and handed a thick manila envelope to Greg before the three turned and left without saying another word.  Greg blinked and shut the door, tossing the envelope on the coffee table as he plopped back onto the couch and watched the rest of the show.  He stood and stretched when it was finished and went into the kitchen to check on dinner baking in the oven.  Once that was done figured he better remove the collar and earring before Nick came home from his double shift.  While Nick understood the legal necessity of the items he still disliked seeing Greg wear them.  He picked up Theo and took him upstairs to wash up for dinner.

“Mummy, why you wear dat?” Theo asked as he watched Greg change his earring and remove the collar before placing it in a drawer.

“Because the policemen say I have to, Jemy,” Greg answered.

“Why Daddy not have to?”

“Because he’s different from me,” Greg calmly explained.

“Will I have to?” Greg smiled at his son.

“No, you won’t have to.”

“Den why do you?” Theo tilted his head to the side with a frown.  Greg picked him up and sat him on the bed, sitting beside him.

“I was born different from most people,” Greg explained. “I was born a boy who can have babies. A long, long time ago, before me and Daddy were even born, only girls could have babies.” Theo’s eyes got wide and Greg continued. “But now it’s different and some boys can. But some of the ones who can’t are afraid.”

“Dey’re afwaid of you?”

“Mm-hmm,” Greg nodded.

“Why?”

“Because they don’t understand. When people don’t understand they can sometimes be afraid.”

“But you not scawy.”

“I know, Jemy. But the ones who are in charge don’t know that.”

“Maybe I can tell dem.” Greg heard a chuckle from the doorway.  He turned to see Nick leaned up against the door frame and smiled.

“I’m afraid it’s not that easy, Jemy,” Nick said and Theo ran up to him.

“Daddy!” Nick scooped him up and hugged him before sitting on the bed beside Greg and kissing him.

“Hey, how was shift?” Greg asked and watched Theo settle comfortably in Nick’s lap.

“Long,” Nick replied, rubbing his tired eyes.

“Aww, well you get washed up and changed and dinner will be waiting on the table,” Greg said as he stood up and kissed Nick before taking Theo back down to the kitchen.

\- - -

After supper was finished and Theo had been tucked in bed Nick and Greg sat in the living room watching TV.  Nick opened the envelope that had been dropped off earlier and put his glasses on to inspect the small stack of documents that was in it.

“What’s wrong?” Greg asked as he seen Nick’s frown.  Nick handed the documents over the Greg.  Greg looked through them and frowned as well. “These are the Ownership Title deeds for all of the Carriers owned by your father.”

“According to this,” Nick said as he held up a separate sheet of paper. “He wants to sign them all over to me.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” Nick shrugged. “Letter doesn’t say why, just says he wants it finalized by September 30th, in three weeks.” The two sat in thoughtful silence.

“So,” Greg said after a while. “Are you going to do it?”

“I’m not sure,” Nick shrugged again. “Should I?” he asked after a pause.

\- - -

Two weeks after the Ownership Title papers arrived, Nick came home after shift find Greg making pancakes for breakfast.  Theo was in the living room playing with a colouring book and watching cartoons.  Nick leaned against the doorway leading into the kitchen and watched Greg dance to the music playing on the radio as he flipped the last pancake onto a plate before turning the stove off.  He turned around and put the plate on the kitchen table. “Hey you,” he said seeing Nick. “What you grinning about?”

“Hmm, what am I grinning about?” Nick asked slyly as he swaggered over to Greg and placed a thick manila envelope on the table before slipping his arms around the smaller man’s waist.

“Nicky?” Instead of answering Nick pulled Greg in for a kiss, tender at first but quickly turning passionate.  Greg pulled away gasping for air. “Not that I’m complaining or anything, but what may I ask was that about?”

“Marry me,” Nick asked.  Greg’s eyebrows shot up, not trusting his ears.

“Come again?” Nick smiled.

“Marry me,” he repeated.

“Um, Nicky, honey, I love you but I don’t know if you’re aware of the fact that it isn’t exactly legal for us.” Nick continued to smile mischievously.

“So?”

“Uh,” Greg was at a loss for words. “You’re serious about this?”

“Yep,” Nick replied with the smile still firmly in place. “Marry me, in November, after Jemy’s forth birthday.” Greg stared at Nick with his jaw hanging open.  Nick rested his forehead on Greg’s, his smile softening. “I love you Greggo, I want to be with you always.”

“I know, Nicky,” Greg sighed. “I love you too, so much I can’t stand to keep it in and I would love to marry you, but it’s just not possible.” Nick stood up straight and picked up the envelope he’d placed on the table, handing it to Greg. “What’s this?”

“Open it.” Greg did and read the documents that were inside.  He gasped as he read the first page:

 _The contents of this document outline all amendments to all of the following Acts (2), Phase I effective nationally October 1 st, 2005:_

 _Carrier Livelihood Act  
Natural Human Right Act  
Natural Rights and Freedoms Act  
Immigration Control Act  
Emigration Control Act  
Marriage Act  
Divorce Act  
Adoption Regulations and Restrictions Act  
Child Custody Act  
Employment and Labour Act  
Education Regulations Act  
Carrier House Regulations Act_

 _The contents of this document also outline the repeal of all the following Acts (2), Phase I effective nationally October 1 st, 2005:_

 _Carrier Registration Act  
Carrier Mobility Restrictions Act  
Carrier Activity Regulations Act  
Carrier Classification Act  
Carrier Ownership Title Act  
Carrier Pet and Slave Regulations Act  
Education Restrictions Act  
Employment Restrictions Act  
Carrier Child Regulations Act  
Stray Regulations Act_

 _Phase I encompasses the initial phasing in of the amendments and repeals outlined in this document, beginning with all major cities in each state throughout the United States of America in agreement with all countries who are members of the United Nations.._

 _Phase II, effective nationally November 10 th, 2006, encompasses the full enactment and practice of the amendments and repeals in every city, town, and village throughout the United States of America in agreement with all countries who are party of the United Nations._

Greg sat heavily on a kitchen chair and flipped through the stack of papers, reading the sentences that had been highlighted.  He didn’t realize he was crying until Nick wiped away his tears.  According to the document in his hands, all countries that were members of the United Nations internationally declared Carriers as human beings, giving them the complete equal status and equal rights enjoyed by Naturals worldwide.

\- 30 -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Footnotes:  
> (1) I just couldn’t resist it! For those who didn’t pick it up, the names Eric, George, William, Jorja, Marg, and Gary are the real first names of the CSI cast: Eric Szmanda (Greg Sanders), George Eads (Nick Stokes), William Peterson (Gil Grissom), Jorja Fox (Sara Sidle), Marg Helgenberger (Catherine Willows), and Gary Dourdan (Warrick Brown).  
> (2) I completely made up all of these Acts, based on the titles of Acts I studied in my criminology classes. Also, these were all the Acts I could think of. Maybe I’ll add more at a later date (maybe).
> 
> A/N: I couldn’t help but make it happy (and it’s not over yet!)


	18. Changes

It was obvious why Judge Stokes wished to be rid of the Carriers in his possession before Phase I of the major legal shift that came about so suddenly.  It was eventually revealed that the laws were changed without warning on purpose, due to the fact that many Acts that the general population are wary about tend to be placed on the back burner and take decades to be considered.  It was a collective agreement by the United Nations that treatment of Carriers was unjust and should never have been allowed to get so out of hand.  When pressed for reasons it was admitted that once official data was gathered of the many children with two Carrier parents that were female, the arguments of numerous humanists and medical physicians that fought for Carrier rights and equality were no longer ignorable.  Until this point, many Naturals viewed the ability for males to carry children as a disease or genetic disorder.

Carriers were granted equal status and equal rights with Naturals.  They were given the legal right to a full education and employment options on par with Naturals.  It was deemed that refusal of employment based on Carrier status was discrimination and as such was an illegal infringement of equality rights.  Also it became required that a Carrier must be paid for the work he does at the same rates that a Natural would given the same job.  Carriers were required to write placement examinations to determine where their education levels were before they were admitted into the education systems.  In the case of Strays that had been apprehended, most tended to score very high on these placement exams and required to attend only “refresher” courses at an institution of their choice prior to employment (or re-employment as the case may be).

Along with equality status, changes to the Marriage and Divorce Acts allowed Carriers the right to legally marry Natural men, women, or other Carriers.  Amendments to laws pertaining to child custody and adoption allowed Carrier parents the parental rights shared by the Natural parent.  In most cases both Carrier-born and Natural-born children were returned to the custody of their Carrier parent or joint custody was established between the Carrier and Natural parents.  Also Carriers were given the right to adopt both Natural-born and Carrier-born children without discriminational placement.

The operation and control of Carrier Houses was taken from Creswell King’s unit and placed under municipal and state responsibility.  These Houses stayed in order to serve as support for the Carrier community as many Carriers who were turned out of their households searched for somewhere to stay while they built lives for themselves in the rapidly changing society.  Admission into a Carrier House no longer consisted of the traditional “processing”.  Carriers were no longer required to have a registration number tattooed into their skin and wear a “Carrier earring”.  The collar classification system was deemed an infringement of equality rights and collars were no longer used for official purposes.  Also, the systematic semi-sterilization practice used on Carriers was outlawed unless the Carrier wished to undergo the procedure voluntarily.

Individuals who were party to the “cover up” of a Carrier (e.g. the Carrier’s parents, the doctor or midwife who oversaw the birth, etc.) were granted full pardons.  In addition, individuals who were confirmed to have reported a Stray Carrier for apprehension were forced to give public apologies. (1)

\- - -

Following the transfer of the Ownership Title deeds to Nick’s name, Nick and Greg made the decision to move out of their small three bedroom house to a much larger one in order to accommodate the extra bodies.  Nick had insisted that the six Carrier stay with them as long as they felt the need and even if they chose to leave were always welcome in their home.

Nearly two weeks after Phase II came into effect Nick and Greg were legally married on November 20th, 2006.  They were granted joint custody and joint guardianship of their son not long after.  The Sanders-Stokes welcomed their second son – also Natural-born – into the world on March 11th 2007 in Desert Palms Hospital in Las Vegas.  Greg smiled down at the tiny boy he held in his arms.

“So what are we going to name this little one?” Nick asked as he sat on the edge of Greg’s hospital bed with four-year-old Theo curled up in his lap.

“Jazz Brian Sanders-Stokes,” Greg answered.

“Jazz?”

“Yes, Jazz.”

“Erm… okay,” Nick grinned at the unusual name.

Six months after the birth of their second son Greg wrote his placement examination and scored so high that he only needed to take a few practical courses to refresh his memory of lab procedure.  Within a month, following the televised public apology made by Conrad Ecklie, the Assistant Lab Director was forced to sign the required paperwork that would reinstate Greg to his Tech position in the lab.

\- - -

“So how does it feel to be going back to your old job?” Riley Nichols – the former junior housekeeping slave of the Stokes household – asked Greg as he watched the older Carrier feed his seven-month-old son.

“Considering I never dreamed in a million years that I ever would, I’m feeling pretty good about it,” Greg smiled. “I’m worried though.”

“About what?” Riley asked from where he sat on the floor playing with Lego Mega Blocks with Theo.

“Should I really be going back to work when I have Theo and Jazz?” Greg moved Jazz to his shoulder to burp him. “I mean, does me _wanting_ to go back to work make me a bad parent? Am I putting my job before my children?”

“Greg, calm down before you hyperventilate,” Riley grinned at his friend. “Wanting to work doesn’t make you a bad parent. You’re trying to ensure your sons’ futures. I mean you do realize what a post-secondary education costs these days,” Riley reasoned. “And it’s not like you’re leaving them home alone to fend for themselves,” he pointed out exasperatedly. “There’ll be at least three or four of us here at all times keeping a watchful eye on them.”

“I know that,” Greg said softly. “I’ll just miss them terribly.”

“See, now how can you be a bad parent when you care about them so deeply?” Riley moved to sit on the couch beside Greg. “You’re doing what’s best for your family. You’ve been doing an amazing job with your sons over the past year, and you will continue to do an amazing job.” Greg took a deep breath.

“Thanks, Ry.”

“No problem. Now, I need your guidance.”

“About what?” Greg raised an eyebrow.

“Well, you know that after Patrick and I married he got his vasectomy reversed,” Riley began.  Greg had been right about the two Carriers the night the seven of them had revealed their real names.  It hadn’t taken long for Patrick to propose after the laws had changed. “Well, the doctor only gave him a small chance that it would be effective. But I know that it _was_ effective.”

“Are you telling me you’re pregnant?” Greg asked with a small grin.

“Yes,” Riley replied, a bit scared. “But what if he doesn’t believe me? What if he doesn’t believe it’s his?” Riley took a calming breath. “It _is_ his, I know it is. I’ve never been with anyone else so it can only be his. But what if he doesn’t believe it and he leaves me?”

“I would never do that, Love.” The two turned to see Patrick and Nick standing in the doorway leading to the kitchen.  Greg smiled and stood, holding Jazz in one arm and taking Theo’s hand in his free one.  He took them into the kitchen with Nick while Patrick and Riley had a moment to themselves.

“You okay?” Nick asked softly as he lifted Theo into a chair while Greg took the juice from the fridge.

“Yeah, I’m just nervous,” Greg said as he took Theo’s cup from the cupboard and poured the juice one handed, not letting go of Jazz.  Nick smiled softly as he took the cup, placing it on the table in front of Theo.

“I know you are, that’s natural.” Nick stood behind Greg and wrapped his arms around his husband’s waist, nuzzling into his neck. “You’ve spent the past year at home caring for them. It’s okay to be nervous. But you have to trust that everything will be alright.”

“I know,” Greg said leaning back into Nick’s warmth, placing a kiss on the top of his infant son’s head.  Later in the evening they put their sons to sleep and headed out the door for their shift.

\- 30 -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Footnotes:  
> (1) Hope that long explanation didn’t confuse anyone.
> 
> A/N: Of all the original characters I made up for this fic, I like Riley the most. He’s just so young and almost naïve and he’s just a lovable character. I also like Patrick, also a good character, but I like him more for the fact that I think he’s a good match for Riley.


	19. The Lab

Two men entered the crime lab ten minutes before shift started and headed toward the locker room. “C’mon G, we’re gonna be late,” the Texan accent of the older one said to the smaller man.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, it’s _my_ fault we were late. Well I had to stop by the bank before shift ‘cause I wasn’t going to be able to make it after,” the younger violet eyed man snapped with a smile.

“You two should hurry it up, you know your supervisor isn’t patient,” the Assistant Lab Director said before they dashed into the locker room.

“Aw, you’re no fun,” the younger man quipped.  The Assistant Lab Director was right though, the boss man wasn’t a patient man and the two rushed into their work clothes.

“… and Brown, you got a 419 at the Tangiers,” the Nightshift supervisor said and handed the tall green-eyed man his assignment slip. “Glad you two could make it,” he said as the two late CSI’s entered. “You two can take DB out at Lake Mead.”

“Sorry boss,” the younger man grinned and took the assignment slip and followed his partner back out of the room.  The Nightshift CSI’s stood and went to their crime scenes.

The Nightshift supervisor shook his head as he watched the two youngest CSI’s go.  He turned when he heard his brother chuckle. “What?”

“I was just thinkin’ that maybe the Assistant Lab Director was right about those two,” Jazz said as he stood. “They’re just like Mum and Dad.” Theo snorted. (1)

“Of all the people we could ever meet to turn out like Mum, it had to be Uncle Gil and Aunt Sara’s youngest kid.”

“Hey, when I’m right, I’m right.” The Nights supervisor and Lead CSI turned to see the Assistant Lab Director leaning against the doorway grinning.

“Hey Lindsay,” Theo greeted.

“At least Sandra Grissom is nothing like Donovan,” Jazz pointed out.

“I’m not sure that’s a good thing either,” Lindsay joked. “She’s the perfect mix of her parents. I mean while she’s a brilliant entomologist, she’s a shameless workaholic.”

“You’re just saying that ‘cause she likes your little brother.”

“Manson can handle himself. It’s Elizabeth I’m concerned about.”

“Michael Phillips is a good man,” Theo argued. “Just because he’s a coroner-”

“It’s got nothing to do with that,” Lindsay countered. “This is my baby sister we’re talking about.”

“My baby sister is seeing the Toxicology Tech and I’m not about to fillet him alive,” Theo grinned.

“You’re not,” Jazz commented. “But I am.”

“Midna is a grown woman who can handle herself,” Theo pointed out.

“Just because she can beat you in an arm wrestle-”

“You’re just sour because she knocked you out while boxing.”

“I hope you two got a DB, ‘cause at this rate anything living will have walked away,” Lindsay smirked at the two men. “Well, I’m going to get back to work. Talk to you guys later.”

“Bye Linz,” the two brothers called as they too walked out of the lab, continuing their argument.  In her office Lindsay Willows-Brown changed the month on her calendar: September, 2044.

It had been eight years since her Uncle Nick had retired from his position as Assistant Lab Director.  Her Uncle Greg had retired as Lab Tech supervisor four years later – leaving the supervising position to the Ballistics Tech Callista Dawson, the eldest daughter of the previous Ballistics Tech Bobby Dawson.

Being top of the list in seniority and best suited for the job, Theo Hojem Sanders-Stokes had become the Nightshift supervisor when her step-father Warrick Brown had retired the year before Nick, his younger brother Jazz Brian Sanders-Stokes – second on the seniority list – was promoted to the newly vacated Lead CSI position.

The rest of the Nightshift CSI’s, listed by rank, were now: Sandra Grissom, noted entomologist and the daughter of Gil and Sara Grissom, followed by Lindsay’s brother and Warrick and Catherine Brown’s youngest child Manson Brown.  Next in line was Donovan Grissom, Sandra’s younger brother – a Carrier with the same zany personality as their Uncle Greg, if not worse.  Last, but not least, was Carson Stokes one of Nick’s younger nephews and semi-secret lover of Donovan – why they were still believed they were hiding it well was beyond Lindsay, Theo _and_ Jazz.

As for the Nightshift Lab Techs, Midna Zaria Sanders-Stokes had obtained her father’s old post after transferring from swing shift.  The youngest of the Sanders-Stokes was the only girl and Lindsay couldn’t help but smile every time she heard her Uncle Greg teasing Nick over the fact that she was the only child of theirs they’d conceived while they were both completely sober – something her Uncle Nick has yet to live down where his eccentric husband is concerned.

The second of Catherine and Warrick’s three children, Elizabeth, eventually became the Audio/Video Tech on Days and when Archie Johnson retired from Nights she’d put in for her transfer.  Archie’s daughter (whom he had with his wife, Mandy formerly-Webser, the old Print Tech) had qualified for her mother’s old job once Mandy left the lab.  Midna’s boyfriend, Dalton Andrews, became the Toxicology Tech in his father’s place after the Toxicologist who replaced Henry Andrews transferred to Miami.  The son of David Phillips – assistant coroner back when Greg had first started working at the lab after University – Michael had followed in his father’s footsteps and also became a forensic pathologist (more commonly called a coroner).  To Lindsay’s dismay – and over-protectiveness of her sister – Michael was engaged to Elizabeth Brown and they planned to wed in December that year.  The last to follow in a parent’s footsteps was Trace Tech Rabecca Hodges, the only child of retired Trace Tech David Hodges and his wife Wendy formerly-Simms.  Wendy had become a CSI around the time Greg was able to return to work, leaving the DNA Tech position open for him.

Lindsay couldn’t help but smile as the studied all the photographs that adorned her office walls – her Vegas family.  She turned back to her paperwork and sighed.  She couldn’t wait for the late lunch the _entire_ family was having the next day.  No matter how old she got she always enjoyed the stories her parents and Aunts and Uncles would tell about the lab and how it was when they were their children’s ages.

\- - -

Back at home an aged Greg Sanders-Stokes sat on his eldest son’s childhood bed smiling contently at an old photograph of two young men as his husband slept.  The two men in the photograph were smiling and very much in love – like Greg and Nick were now.  It was like the world spun just for them…

\- - -

 **_Las Vegas_ ** **_, December 31 st, 2000, 11:58 PM_ **

Nick couldn’t believe he was standing here, in the middle of a Lab staff party, dressed in an outfit Greg had breezed into his apartment with three hours earlier.  As it was he found himself wearing what Greg had affectionately termed his “fuck me” jeans under black leather riding chaps that made Nick blush when Greg had first pulled them out of the bag.  The younger man then pulled out a black sleeveless top that, upon closer inspection, had strands of shiny green threads woven into the fabric.  He’d expected it to itch but he found it surprisingly comfortable.  While he questioned Greg’s reasoning that his outfit had been “the last one” and in his size, he really didn’t mind his slightly unconventional outfit.  Of course he was nothing compared to the sexy man standing next to him.  Upon opening his apartment door he’d been ready to take the young Lab Tech right there in the hallway.  Greg had been standing there in a red-glittery sleeveless black shirt, black running shoes that oddly enough could have passed for dress shoes, and to top it off a little leather miniskirt that ended a little over halfway up his thighs.  The man was sex on legs and he was all Nick’s.

“Hey guys,” Sara smiled as she came up to them with a camera – one that strangely looked like the same camera she’d used at a crime scene during the previous shift. “You boys look amazing. I have to take a picture.”

“Oh, no, that’s okay,” Nick protested.

“Aw, c’mon Nicky, don’t you want to show it off in a few decades to the newbie CSI’s to prove just how cool you were back in the day?” Greg grinned at his shy Texas boyfriend.

“Not particularly.” Greg batted his eyes and Nick caved. “Maybe just one.” He wrapped his arm around the smaller man and Greg smiled widely.  Nick couldn’t help but smile back.  In his heart he knew that Greg was the only one for him.  He was about to lean in for a kiss when Sara’s voice was heard.

“I’ll make a copy of this one for you,” she said.  Nick looked up a bit surprised, he hadn’t even seen the flash go off.  He turned back to the man next to him as the count down to the New Year began.  They stared into each other’s eyes and Nick knew this year was going to change the rest of his life.  As the countdown reached one and everyone around them shouted and began to sing, he pressed his lips onto Greg’s and the world melted away leaving only the two of them, gently swaying to the distant beat of the music that floated around them.

\- 30 -

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Footnotes:  
> (1) I think Mum is a common British spelling for Mom, but I figured I’d use the two in this story to differentiate a woman from a Carrier. In this story all children refer to their father’s as “Father” or “Dad” but with their other parent “Mum” signifies a Carrier parent and “Mom/Mother” signifies a woman. Just thought I’d add that.
> 
> A/N: Well, I hope y’all liked it! It was a pleasure writing this, I had a lot of fun exploring this take on the subject. And a special thanks goes out to all of those who made it this far and enjoyed it! Thank you! Hope everyone continues to read my stuff! Take care!


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